Chapter 3

I curled up under the blanket alone, not sleeping a wink the entire night.

Ethan didn't come back.

I called him more than a dozen times, but it went straight to voicemail every time.

As the hours dragged on, my anger slowly faded into worry.

Maybe... maybe the lipstick stain was just an accident?

What if he was driving while angry and got into a car crash?

What if he got into a fight with someone?

What if he was hurt?

...

Endless guilt flooded my mind, and I began to wonder if I had indeed been too sensitive.

First thing in the morning, I went downstairs, bought groceries, and cooked a massive, delicious breakfast, planning to apologize to Ethan the moment he walked through the door.

But once the table was set and I finally dialed his number, a woman's voice answered the phone.

"Who is this? Ethan forgot his phone here when he left earlier."

"I'll have him call you back when he gets back."

The girl's voice was sweet and youthful. I stood frozen in place as if struck by lightning. After a long pause, I asked with a trembling voice,

"What... what is your relationship with Ethan?"

The girl paused for a second, then let out a soft, amused giggle.

"Aren't you on his Snapchat? He posted photos of us on his stories. I'm his girlfriend."

Girlfriend...

What did that mean? Ethan was actually cheating on me?

I forced myself to stay calm, burying the storm of emotions raging inside me, and replied after a moment of silence,

"Sorry, I dialed the wrong number."

Then, I hung up.

I had spent the entire night worrying about his safety, while he was out having the time of his life with another woman?

He had even publicly posted photos of his mistress on Snapchat?

But as far as I knew, Ethan never posted anything on social media.

Whenever we went on trips and took cute couple photos, he always refused to post them, claiming it was too much of a hassle.

I opened Snapchat and checked his profile. Indeed, his public stories were completely empty.

Had he blocked me from seeing his posts?

Just then, Brenda pushed open her bedroom door. Seeing my bloodshot eyes, she rolled her eyes in disgust.

"Look at that pathetic face. You look like a curse!"

"No wonder you can't keep your man!"

I took a deep breath, ignored her, walked back into my bedroom, and slammed the door.

From outside, Brenda’s muffled insults continued.

"Getting pregnant has only given you a nasty attitude. What a classless, uneducated small-town brat."

Brenda had always treated me like garbage.

But in the past, Ethan would always tell me that his mother just had a sharp tongue but a good heart, and asked me to bear with it.

So I did, over and over again. But my patience only made Brenda bolder and her insults meaner.

Before, whenever I cried from Brenda’s abuse, Ethan would hold me tight, stroke my hair, and gently comfort me.

But the moment I got pregnant, everything changed.

Not only did he stop comforting me, but he also started calling me dramatic and high-maintenance.

"Every daughter-in-law gets scolded by her mother-in-law. She's in her fifties, can't you just let her have her way?"

"You're about to be a mother yourself. Stop being so petty!"