Chapter 2

I used to think so too.

Until I accidentally saw the notes app on her phone.

Oren only drinks hot lattes.

Oren's old injuries hurt every winter, remember to remind him to use pain patches.

Listed one by one, crystal clear.

And of course, she remembered my birthday too.

It's just that every year, her assistant would deliver the gift home in advance.

She would post a photo of us on Instagram with the caption:

"Happy birthday to my husband."

But on Oren's birthday, she would bake a cake herself.

Even after failing three times, she refused to let the nanny help.

I stood at the kitchen door, watching the back of her hand get burned red by the baking pan.

I asked her, "Who is it for?"

Fiona paused for a moment, then quickly smiled and said, "An old friend."

I didn't think much of it at the time, and even helped her whip the cream.

Only later did I find out that old friend's name was Oren.

He was the one Fiona could never have in her youth.

The one who got away, hiding in her heart for years.

Fiona was still leaning against my arms, asking softly:

"Mason, who do you think the baby will look like?"

I suddenly felt how absurd this was.

This child hadn't even been born yet.

And was already her excuse to run off to someone else.

I said, "I don't know."

Fiona looked up at me.

Probably finally noticing my coldness, she frowned slightly.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Is it too sudden? You haven't processed it yet?"

I looked into Fiona's concerned eyes.

In this moment, I couldn't tell if she had even an ounce of sincerity.

She seemed to treat me really well.

But the person she loved was never me.

She never took the initiative to hug me, never came close to me at night.

Every time we were intimate, she was quiet to the point of indifference, never making a sound.

I used to think that was just her personality.

But in the study just now, when she mentioned Oren, her voice was as sweet as an eighteen-year-old's.

I finally understood, it wasn't that Fiona wasn't passionate.

It was just that her passion never belonged to me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

It was a reply from my lawyer.

"Mr. Mason, the divorce agreement has been drafted."

"Since it involves a divorce during pregnancy and child custody, things might get a bit complicated later."

I looked at the lawyer's message, my fingers hovering over the screen.

Fiona leaned in and asked, "Who is it?"

I locked my phone and spoke plainly.

"Work stuff."

She didn't suspect a thing.

Or rather, she never thought I would actually leave her.

She just looked down and stroked her belly, her voice very soft.

"Mason, I have to go abroad for a business trip tomorrow."

I looked into Fiona's eyes.

There wasn't a hint of guilt in them.

Only the anticipation of going to see someone.

I was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Fiona smiled in satisfaction, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed my cheek.

"You're the best."

I used to fall for this every time.

Whenever she called me that, all my anger would vanish.

But now, that bit of warmth on my face just felt so dirty I wanted to wipe it off.

That night, Fiona asked me to help her pack.

With her hand resting on her belly, she ordered me around as if it were her right.

"Pack those dresses too. And the perfume in the drawer."

"Oh, and take out that box in the very back of the closet."

I did as she said, packing everything into the suitcase one by one.

Until I opened the box in the very back of the closet.

Inside was a wine-red slip dress with very little fabric.