The first snowfall in Massachusetts happened to fall on our wedding anniversary. Percy and I have been married for three years, and I thought he'd surprise me like he always did—maybe with flowers, a nice dinner, or some sweet, sentimental gesture to mark the day.

Instead, he walked in with another woman.

"Brielle, this is Gianna," Percy said, his voice casual like it was no big deal. "She’s my junior from when I studied overseas. Anyway, she heard you used to cosplay and wanted to see you dressed as Santa Claus."

I froze. 'Santa Claus?'

I politely declined, but when I did, he snapped at me. "You're only six months pregnant. Do you have to act so delicate? Besides, your belly's huge. Playing Santa suits you perfectly!"

I stood there, dumbfounded. But that wasn’t all. Later, he actually forced me outside in short sleeves, shoving me into the freezing cold -20°C.

Half an hour later, my arms were completely frostbitten, and I lost the baby.

When I got the news, I didn’t say a word. I just went home and quietly filed for divorce.

And then, to my shock, Percy—the arrogant, self-righteous man—begged me not to leave him.

...

"Brielle, this is Gianna. She’s my junior from when I studied overseas," Percy introduced the girl beside him.

She was strikingly beautiful—curvaceous, with a bold bomber jacket that screamed confidence. Her style was a world apart from mine.

It was supposed to be our wedding anniversary, yet here he was, bringing another woman home without saying a word to me.

Before I could even react, Percy welcomed her in, acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. He even handed her a pair of slippers, something I’d never received from him.

I forced a polite smile, trying to keep my composure. "Hi, I’m Brielle, Percy’s wife."

Gianna didn’t say anything. Instead, she just stared at my pregnant belly for a moment before letting out a sneering laugh, one dripping with clear malice.

I had no idea what was so funny.

"Percy, you were right. It really does look just like it," she said, accepting the fruit Percy handed her, her tone playful.

'Look like what? What the heck was she talking about?'

Seeing my confusion, Percy explained, "She heard that you used to cosplay and wanted to see you dressed as Santa Claus."

I froze.

Images of a jolly, big-bellied Santa flashed through my mind, and I realized what she meant.

She was talking about my six-month pregnant belly, comparing it to Santa Claus?

Discomfort crept through me, twisting my stomach.

So, I softly refused. "That was a long time ago. I don’t do cosplay anymore."

After all, when I married Percy, he told me he found it childish, so I gave it up. But Gianna wasn’t done.

"Oh, come on, Brielle! You’d look perfect as Santa Claus!" she insisted, her excitement growing. "I’m looking forward to it!"

I couldn’t shake her off, so I finally used my trump card.

"I’d rather not," I said. "I’m six months pregnant now, and Dr. Henderson advised me not to overexert myself."

Gianna’s smile instantly vanished. "Sorry—"

Before I could even finish my sentence, Percy cut me off. "It’s just six months. Do you really have to act so fragile?"

"Besides," he smirked, "your belly’s massive. You’d make the perfect Santa Claus!"

I was stunned. 'Since when had he become so cruel? And wasn’t the baby in my belly his child, too?'

"Percy, watch your words," I finally snapped, the polite facade completely gone.

But he wasn’t backing down.

Percy frowned, looking at me like I was the unreasonable one. "Did I say anything wrong? Gianna traveled thousands of miles to visit us, and you’re acting all moody. What kind of attitude is that?"

I could feel my temper bubbling up, barely holding it together.

How absurd was he being?

"But Dr. Henderson specifically told me not to overexert myself in the later stages of pregnancy," I reasoned.

I tried to keep my composure. Arguing with them wouldn’t fix anything. And I wasn’t about to lose my cool in front of both of them.

As if on cue, Gianna tugged at Percy’s sleeve, her voice sweet and syrupy—just the right amount of polite, like she was playing the part of the thoughtful guest.

"Percy, forget it. If Brielle doesn’t want to, we shouldn’t force her."

At first, it sounded reasonable, even considerate. But I could hear the smugness underneath it all. It wasn’t genuine.

And, just as I expected, Percy took the bait.

His expression darkened, and irritation flared in his voice. "It’s just pregnancy, Brielle. Why are you acting so fragile?"

I froze.

For the first time, I saw him.

Not the man I fell in love with. Not the man who had begged me to have this baby, swearing he’d take care of me every step of the way. Not the man who promised me a future.

No. This was someone else.

A dull ache spread through my chest.

I never even wanted kids in the first place. It was Percy who pushed for it, who pressured me, who insisted on fulfilling his parents' dream of having a grandchild.

I’d given in, letting him have his way.

And now here he was, mocking me and belittling me all to impress some other woman.

God, I was exhausted.

I took a breath, letting it out slowly, trying to keep the anger in check.

"Yeah, you're right. I’m just too delicate," I said flatly.

There was no point in arguing. I knew the game by now.

Percy, looking smug, seemed satisfied with my submission. "That’s more like it."

He reached out and ruffled my hair like I was a kid, and my stomach twisted with disgust.

As if the evening couldn’t get any worse, Percy pulled something from the bottom drawer of the kitchen. For a second, a flicker of hope surged in my chest.

Our anniversary. Maybe, just maybe, he’d remembered.

But all that hope vanished when I saw what was inside the box.

A cheap, oversized Santa Claus costume.

So, this was my anniversary gift.

I didn’t move. Didn’t react. I just stared at it, feeling something inside me snap.

He had already erased me from his heart, hadn’t he?

Percy had become so sure I wouldn’t leave him, so sure of his control over me that he kept pushing, testing, breaking me. He thought I’d always be there.

But he was wrong.

I slowly closed the box, then looked up and met his gaze.

Calm. Steady. Unwavering.

"Percy," I said, my voice quieter now. "Let’s get a divorce."

His smirk faltered.

For the first time that night, he actually looked shocked. "What did you just say?"

His eyes flickered to my six-month pregnant belly, then back to me, disbelief setting in. "Are you sure you want a divorce?"

I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

He was probably thinking, 'She’s pregnant. She’ll never leave. Not with a baby on the way.'

But I had to ask myself, 'Would I really want a child to grow up in this house? In this... relationship?'

A sharp pain knifed through my stomach, and I braced myself against the table. I refused to let him see me falter.

"I said," I repeated, my gaze locked on his, "Let’s get a divorce."

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Percy’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "You're being ridiculous."

Before I could respond, Gianna, sensing our tension, looped her arm through Percy’s and spoke softly, almost too sweetly.

"Percy, let’s go out for a bit."

Just like that, he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t look back.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the door without a second glance. "Let’s go."

And with that, the door slammed behind him—loud and final.

The moment the lock clicked, the pain in my abdomen hit me like a wave, overwhelming and intense.

I barely managed to sink to my knees before collapsing onto the floor.

...

By midnight, Percy strolled back in like nothing had happened, completely unfazed.

I spent the whole afternoon writhing in pain, barely conscious. I might not have made it if it hadn’t been for the housekeeper to notice in time.

Dr. Henderson had rushed over, set up IV drips, and told me I needed to rest.

Percy stood in the doorway, looking genuinely surprised.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, his voice laced with annoyance.

For a second, I thought I might actually laugh.

Tell him?

The housekeeper called him over and over. He didn’t pick up. Much worse, he turned off his damn phone.

I exhaled sharply, trying to hold myself together. "Wasn’t it you who ignored the calls?"

I shot back, closing my eyes, willing my emotions back down.

For once, Percy didn’t have an answer. Instead, he sat beside me, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

"Maybe my phone died while we were out," he muttered. Then, as if he could just brush it off, he added in a halfhearted tone, "Sorry."

But his remorse wasn't genuine. It was just the kind of apology cheaters and liars give—a half-assed excuse to cover their tracks.

He sighed. "I was wrong today. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. Forgive me, okay?"

Once upon a time, I would have without hesitation. Without thinking.

Because that’s how it always worked, Percy was always in control.

He was the golden boy. The untouchable campus heartthrob. The one I had spent years quietly crushing on. The one who vanished overseas without a word, just when I thought our story was over.

But then, years later, at twenty-eight, he showed up at my blind date.

"Brielle, I heard you had a crush on me back in school." Percy’s voice was casual, almost indifferent, like what he was about to say was just a simple solution to an inconvenience.

"So why don’t we just get married and skip the whole blind date hassle?" he continued, barely looking up from his phone.

Turning my long-standing admiration into reality felt like a dream—something I never thought would happen.

So, naturally, I said yes. I thought it was fate.

But as time passed, I realized the harsh truth—every moment had been nothing but my own wishful thinking.

As I sat there, quietly stewing, my eyes wandered to his neck.

A faint red mark.

For years, he wouldn’t let me touch that part of him.

How ironic.

Completely unaffected by my silence, Percy casually pulled a jar of body lotion out of the drawer and held it up like it was just another routine night.

"You didn’t put on lotion today, did you?" he said, unscrewing the lid. "Want me to help?"

I didn’t say no.

Since I got pregnant, applying lotion every night to prevent stretch marks has become part of my routine. But the moment he lifted my shirt, his whole body stiffened.

His breathing hitched.

And then… disgust flashed across his face.

My stomach was covered in deep, layered stretch marks—lines carved into my skin from carrying his child.

They ran along my waist, curled around my stomach, some darker, some lighter, overlapping each other.

As if he couldn’t hold it in, he slapped a hand over his mouth and gagged. "Ugh!"

The sound cut through me.

Humiliation. Grief. They crashed into me all at once.

Tears welled up and spilled down my cheeks before I could stop them.

'So this was how he saw me?'

The stretch marks I earned through pain, marks left by his child, were so disgusting to him that he couldn’t even look at me?

I forced the words out, my voice trembling with rage. "I don’t need your help."

I ripped the lotion from his hands, shoving him away. "Get out."

Percy looked genuinely flustered, like a kid who had just been caught doing something wrong.

"Brielle, I didn’t mean it that way," he stammered. "Maybe I just drank too much tonight. It made me feel a little dizzy."

'Liar...'

His body language never lied. And I would never believe him again.

I grabbed the pillow from the bed and threw it at his face. "Percy, I don’t want to see you ever again!"

His mouth opened, hesitating like he wanted to say something, but he must’ve realized that no excuse would make a difference.

"Fine," he muttered, stepping back. "I’ll sleep in the guest room. If you’re feeling unwell, just call me."

As if I ever would.

...

The next morning, I woke up to find Percy asleep by my bedside.

His long, narrow eyes had dark circles beneath them, his face slightly pale. I didn’t know if he had stayed up all night watching over me. I didn’t care enough to ask.

When he saw I was awake, he quickly grabbed a coat and draped it over me. "It’s negative twenty degrees today. Don’t catch a cold."

I barely acknowledged him.

"Mm," I hummed, pulling the coat tighter around me, my eyes still heavy with exhaustion.

Without another word, I stood up and walked toward the third floor.

The third floor was the biggest room in the house. It had once been a sanctuary—bathed in sunlight, cozy, and full of hope.

At least, that’s what it was supposed to be.

Percy had promised me this would be our child’s nursery back then.

We’d poured our hearts into it.

A custom-made crib. Soft, cozy play mats. An endless collection of tiny baby clothes—each one hand-picked with care.

Whenever I felt overwhelmed or upset, I’d come up here because this room was supposed to be a dream waiting to happen.

But when I pushed open the door—

Everything was gone.

The crib. The play mats. The clothes.

All of it.

Instead, Gianna’s stuff was everywhere.

For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe. Then, just as I was processing the betrayal, Gianna stepped out of the room.

She took one look at my face and smirked. "Good morning, Brielle."

A wave of anger surged inside me. "Who gave you permission to touch this room?"

This house had plenty of guest rooms, but she’d deliberately chosen this one. She wasn’t even trying to hide it.

Gianna gave me a mock-apologetic smile, tucking a strand of perfect hair behind her ear.

"Oh, I’m sorry," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Percy told me I could stay here."

Then, with a delicate sigh, she added, "I had no idea this was a nursery you’d prepared…"

'Liar.'

She knew exactly what she was doing. She was poking at my wounds, enjoying my pain. I wasn’t about to let it slide.

Without hesitation, I raised my hand and slapped her.

Hard.

The sharp crack echoed through the room.

Gianna gasped, clutching her cheek, eyes wide in shock. "What—!"

"Who the hell do you think you are?" I seethed, my voice cold as ice.

Her lips quivered. Then, like clockwork, her entire demeanor shifted. The smug, taunting Gianna vanished. In her place was a tear-streaked, pitiful damsel in distress.

"I… I didn’t mean to…" she whimpered, her eyes glassy with crocodile tears.

The act was pathetic. Just seconds ago, she’d been smirking.

Now, she was playing the helpless victim?

And, of course, right on cue, Percy walked in.

Just like that.