Chapter 3

Hank didn't come home last night.

I wasn't surprised. This wasn't the first time.

But as I was finishing up in the bathroom, I saw him walking in with breakfast in hand, and trailing right behind him was Susie.

When he saw me, he placed the breakfast on the dining table, and for once, offered an explanation.

"We stayed out late last night. Susie was scared to be alone, so I sent her home. It was already the middle of the night, so I just slept over."

Susie, clinging to his arm, chimed in, her tone laced with mock innocence.

"That's right, Pearl. You're not mad, are you?"

I nodded without speaking.

Hank seemed to pick up on my coldness, and with a rare gentleness in his voice, he placed the breakfast down and tried again.

"Didn't you say you've been wanting to see that new movie? I have time today, I can take you."

That movie—praised by everyone since its release—had been something I asked him about, again and again. Each time, he'd turned me down, claiming he was too busy with work. Yet, just a few days later, I saw him in Susie's Instagram post.

"The best movie with the best person." was the caption.

Though their faces weren't visible, the picture of their hands intertwined said more than enough. Even if I hadn't seen his face, I would've known it was him.

The faint trace of perfume on him now, not mine, made my decision easy.

"No need," I said, my voice calm. "I've got something to do today."

A flicker of discomfort crossed his face, like he hadn't expected the rejection. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Susie had already made herself comfortable on the couch, looking at me with wide-eyed innocence.

"Pearl, when you say you're busy, does that mean you're meeting your university friend?"

I shot her a sharp look, suspicion creeping in.

The only person who knew I wanted to initiate a divorce was my lawyer, and that lawyer was an old university friend. No one else knew about the matter.

Seeing my suspicious look, Susie quickly turned to Hank with a look of false innocence.

"Hank, don't be angry when you hear what I'm about to tell you. A few days ago, my friend told me they saw Pearl with her university friend at a café… acting…" She paused deliberately, feigning hesitation before continuing in a softer, fearful tone, "intimate…"

"But maybe my friend was mistaken. After all, how could Pearl ever cheat on you? She loves you so much, Hank."

The moment those words left her mouth, Hank's face twisted in fury.

Without warning, he slammed his hand down, sending the vase on the table crashing to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces. His eyes burned with rage as they locked onto me.

"Pearl! So you're not coming to the movies with me because you're sneaking around with another man?" he spat. "Do you think you're being fair to the child you're carrying?"

I glanced at the shards scattered across the floor but said nothing. Before I could speak, Susie, pretending to be the peacemaker, jumped in again.

"Hank, please don't get mad. Let's talk calmly. It's not all her fault—after all, her mother also…"

But before she could finish that vile sentence, I grabbed the napkin from the table and threw it at her, my hand trembling with rage.

She could slander me all she wanted, but she had no right to insult my mother.

The napkin left a red mark on her, and she immediately looked up at Hank with teary, wounded eyes. As expected, he rushed over to her, lifting her arm in concern.

Seeing her pitiful expression, he glared at me, pointing his finger with unrestrained fury.

"Pearl, you've disappointed me beyond words! Even if what Susie said was untrue, you had no right to lay a hand on her!"

His accusations came rapid-fire. "You should know better th—"

I cut him off sharply, my voice cold. "So you know she's lying."

His face froze, caught in his own words, but it quickly shifted back to self-righteous indignation as he pointed at me again.

"Yes, I saw it too that day. But even so, you're still wrong to hit her! Apologize to Susie now, or we're getting divorced!"

A chill ran through my body, spreading like ice. I stared at him in disbelief, still holding on to a shred of hope, a final attempt to salvage what little remained between us.

"Hank," I said, my voice low but steady, "I've scheduled an abortion. Will you go with me tomorrow?"

He scoffed, the sound dripping with mockery, as if I had just told a ridiculous joke.