My husband’s so-called “female bro” lost the game and was told to pick a man in the room, sit face-to-face, and shake for ten seconds.

Without hesitation, she chose my husband.

“This position—he and I know it best, don’t we?”

I froze, thinking she was joking.

Before I could speak, Chloe Carter lifted her skirt and sat right on my husband’s lap.

Seeing my face darken, she swayed her body and explained:

“Oh, the night before you two got married, he was drunk and restless. I helped him out.”

“Relax, it was just fooling around, nothing actually happened. Otherwise, do you think you would’ve gotten to marry him the next day?”

I let out a cold laugh. “Of course.”

Then I raised my hand and slapped her across the face.

“You should have told me sooner. I wouldn’t have wanted a filthy cucumber someone else already touched!”

…

The private room instantly fell silent.

Ethan Miller, who had been resting his hand on her waist, abruptly pulled back.

He shielded her in his arms and glared at me furiously:

“Sophia Harris, are you insane?!”

“Chloe already explained—she only helped because it was an emergency! What are you jealous about now?”

“And besides, I asked her purely out of friendship. Better her than some random woman outside. You don’t appreciate me, and now you even dare to hit her!”

Then he gently caressed Chloe’s face, his eyes full of tenderness.

I stood there, my heart growing colder by the second.

Three years of marriage, and whenever Chloe came up, the word he used most was bro.

Sharing food? Bro.

Sharing a bed? Bro.

Even sleeping together? Just bro.

I raised my eyes and looked closely at Chloe—big wavy hair, bright red lips, ten-centimeter heels.

Not a trace of a tomboy.

Thinking about it, his “bro” excuse was just to fool me.

I gave a bitter smile and said expressionlessly:

“You call this helping out a bro?”

“Fine. Then show me—pick someone else right now and perform for me. See if they can ‘help you out’ the same way.”

Ethan’s face went pale. “What do you mean by that? You’re doubting us?!”

“Sophia, I’ve told you countless times—I grew up with Chloe. If there were anything between us, we would’ve been together long ago. You wouldn’t even exist in the picture!”

“Today we finally got our friends together to celebrate our anniversary, and you just had to throw a fit and embarrass everyone?”

He frowned, his eyes full of suppressed disgust as he looked at me.

But clearly he was the one at fault—yet now I was the unreasonable one.

I gave a bitter smile, locking eyes with him.

“So you do know Chloe is a woman. For a moment I thought you didn’t.”

Ethan froze, blurting out:

“Of course I know—”

He cut himself off halfway.

“Enough! Don’t try to change the subject. You need to apologize to Chloe right now!”

I stared at him in disbelief, the bitterness in my chest nearly suffocating me.

Suddenly, it all felt pointless. I grabbed my purse and walked toward the door—only to be yanked back violently.

“Sophia Harris, I said apologize!”

My stomach slammed into the corner of the table, pain shooting through me until I broke into a cold sweat.

But I still clenched my teeth, lifted my head, and forced out each word:

“No. Way.”

The air froze.

Others rushed to mediate.

“Come on, Ethan, she didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, man, don’t lose your temper.”

But no matter what anyone said, Ethan still gripped my arm tightly, his eyes dark in a way I had never seen before.

Not until Chloe walked over and tapped his palm.

“Hey, champ, what have I always taught you? Be patient with girls. You’re not being a gentleman at all.”

Then she turned to me.

“Sophia, let me apologize for him. My bro’s a good guy, but he’s always hated seeing me get bullied. That’s why he lashed out at you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to teach him properly when we get home.”

As soon as she finished, Ethan finally released me, the malice in his eyes vanishing.

Three years married, and I’d never once seen him lose his cool.

Even on our honeymoon, when someone tried to grope me, he just casually asked the guy to apologize.

I always thought he was just emotionally detached. But now I understood—he could care deeply.

Just not about me.

In a daze, I saw Chloe walk over with a glass of wine.

“Sophia, a toast. Let’s just put today behind us.”

She shoved the glass into my hand. I resisted, and she suddenly let go.

The red wine spilled down her neckline, soaking her dress, and the glass shattered on the floor.

Ethan’s rage exploded. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?!”

He shoved me to the ground, shards of glass cutting into my arm.

Blood streamed down, and Ethan froze, instinctively reaching to help me.

But Chloe sneezed behind him.

“Ugh, so cold…”

Without a word, Ethan took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

Then he turned to glare at me like I had committed some unforgivable crime.

“Happy now? You’ve caused enough trouble!”

He scooped Chloe into his arms and stormed out.

I gritted through the pain, trembling as I said:

“Ethan Miller, if you walk out that door today, we’re finished.”

His steps faltered—but he never turned back.

Clenching my jaw, I pushed myself up. One of his buddies looked guilty.

“Sophia, maybe I should drive you to the hospital. Ethan—”

Before he could finish, I glanced at my bleeding arm and laughed.

Even an outsider cared about me more than my husband did—who had just carried someone else away without a glance back.

I shook my head. “No need. I’ll manage.”

So I limped out, hailed an Uber, and went to the hospital myself.

Every bandage stung, my whole body trembling.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification.

It was Chloe’s new social media post:

[Compensation from my champ. Look how happy we are as a family of three!]

In the picture, a Maltese sat in the middle, with Ethan and Chloe smiling behind it.

Yes, they looked just like a family of three.

I gave it a like.

A second later, Ethan called.

“Sophia, what’s that supposed to mean? I just bought Chloe a puppy, why the sarcasm?”

I ignored him. He continued:

“Her clothes got soaked, so I’m taking her home to change. Don’t forget—this was all thanks to you!”

Before I could answer, the call ended with a sharp click.

I let out a bitter laugh and contacted a lawyer about divorce.

But right after I sent the email, the nurse gasped.

“You’re bleeding.”

I looked down and saw a patch of red on my white pants.

The nurse hurried me to a doctor, but the words that followed hit me like a hammer.

“Congratulations—you’re pregnant.”

I froze, instinctively placing a hand on my stomach.

Ever since losing my parents, I had longed for a child of my own.

But why now, of all times…

After much hesitation, I withdrew the email.

I decided to give Ethan one more chance.

And give this baby one too.

By the time I finished at the hospital, it was late at night.

Even before I opened the door, I could hear laughter inside.

Ethan’s face and body were covered in foam.

Strange—this man who once couldn’t stand a drop of oil splattering on him during dinner was now letting Chloe smear him with shaving cream, smiling all the while.

When he saw me, Ethan hurriedly took the razor from her hand.

“Leave this to my wife. You’re clumsy—who’d ever marry you like that?”

Chloe, annoyed, threw a pillow at him.

“None of your business! It’s not like you’re the one marrying me!”

Ethan laughed, dodging while shielding her playfully.

I stood at the doorway, my chest tight at the sight of their intimacy.

This time, I didn’t pick up the razor like usual.

Instead, I went straight to change my dirty clothes.

When I came back, Ethan was gaming with Chloe, headphones on.

I walked over and handed him the ultrasound report.

He reluctantly turned from the screen.

“What’s this?”

Before he could look, Chloe shrieked:

“Babe, help! I’m about to get killed in-game!”

“And my ice cream’s melting—wipe it for me!”

“Gross,” Ethan muttered, but still wiped her mouth.

He wrapped the ultrasound slip around the half-melted cone and tossed it into the trash.

I touched my stomach, unable to even speak.

That night, Ethan hugged me from behind, whispering in my ear:

“Happy anniversary, babe.”

His words brought back a flood of memories.

We’d met at a college dance, where he fell in love at first sight and pursued me for three years.

Back then, he remembered every detail of my likes and dislikes, tracked my cycle, and always found ways to cheer me up.

He told me my feelings were what mattered most.

During my senior year, when I lost both my parents, Ethan was the one who stayed by my side.

His warmth and care made me fall completely.

But when had he changed?

Probably when Chloe came back from abroad.

I still remembered the first time she showed up—she threw her arm around Ethan’s shoulders with a laugh:

“Ethan, missed your daddy yet?”