May You Have Peace

When I was five months pregnant, Greg had missed four months of prenatal checkups because of his highschool sweetheart, Chloe. Now, on the fifth one, he stood me up yet again. Over the phone, his voice sounded cold and irritated. “The baby isn’t just mine, you know. Why can’t you step up as a mother and do a little more? Is the kid going to die without me there?“ I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the hospital waiting room TV, which showed a live broadcast of him smiling tenderly at Chloe. “Okay,“ I whispered. Greg must have noticed something off about my tone because he started to say something else, but I hung up before he could. Right then, the nurse, who had just gossiped about the news, specifically about how Greg had just spent a fortune hosting a massive fireworks display for Chloe, walked over to me. “Ma’am, please head this way for your prenatal checkup,“ she said. I shook my head, my voice calm. “No need. Please schedule me for an abortion next week instead. Chapter 1 When Greg Davidson found me, I was sitting on the curb, staring blankly into space. On the massive digital billboard across the commercial street, a video of Greg and Chloe O’Malley was playing. The two of them stood side by side, looking up at the fireworks, looking exactly like a deeply devoted couple. Greg suddenly blocked my view and yanked me up to my feet. “It’s late at night! What’s gotten into you? So what if I didn’t make it to your checkup? Why can’t you just be a little reasonable for once?” I froze slightly. In the two years we had been married, reasonable was the word I had heard most from him. Wanting to look at his phone was unreasonable. Wanting to accompany him to public events was unreasonable. Even begging him to go to my prenatal checkups was, apparently, unreasonable. If this had been before, I would’ve immediately lowered my head and apologized. Yet now, looking down at my round belly, I no longer cared about being reasonable. Seeing me ignore him and walk past, Greg flew into a rage. “What on earth are you up to now?” “The photo studio.” As soon as the words left my mouth, Greg was stunned. Accompanying me to checkups and taking maternity photos were the only two things I had ever begged him to do. However, he hadn’t remembered either of them. A look of guilt crossed Greg’s face, and he took me to the photo studio. “I’ve been really forgetful lately. Bear with me.” I smiled silently to myself. His memory was perfectly fine. He remembered Chloe’s birthday, her favorite snacks, and even the specific release dates of every single one of her art projects, which were dozens, if not hundreds of them. He was only forgetful when it came to me. While lost in my thoughts, he pulled the car to a stop at our destination. When I looked up and saw that we were at Chloe’s studio, my entire body went rigid. From the very first day she returned to the city, I knew that Greg had meticulously chosen that location for a woman. The studio was named Decade of Love, symbolizing their ten-year relationship. The two of them had been high school sweethearts, but Chloe had left for Euruzone to pursue her dreams. In a fit of anger, Greg married me. Yet, after two years of marriage, Chloe ran right back to him. After she caught a cold in the rain once, Greg forgave her and publicly resumed their old dynamic. Overnight, it felt as though I had become the other woman. However, I was no longer willing to swallow that bitter pill. My grip on the car door handle tightened instantly, but before I could voice my refusal, Greg pulled me inside. Chloe immediately walked over to greet us. She had a slender figure, her dark hair tied up in a bun, looking both elegant and carefree. Compared to me, with my haggard complexion and swollen hands and feet, the difference was night and day. An assistant in the shop, who seemed to have seen Greg many times before, called out with a bright smile, “Hey, Greg! Are you here to see Chloe again?” Greg’s expression froze, and he shot a frantic glance at me. Chloe gasped softly and turned around to lecture the girl. “Watch your mouth. This is his wife.” Then, she smiled at me and added, “Don’t mind her, Trisha. She’s just a young girl who speaks without thinking.” With that, she pulled me over to look at the dresses. My expression remained blank the whole time. Chloe glanced at me a few times, and seeing that I truly wasn’t reacting, a mocking smirk played on her lips. My eyes were drawn to a long, pearl-white gown with a rather ethereal look about it. However, just as I reached out to try it on, Greg’s hand pressed down on mine, stopping me. “Pick a different one,” he said in a low voice. My brows furrowed, and just as I was about to ask why, I looked up and saw a framed photo of him and Chloe hanging on the wall. Chapter 2 In the photo, she was wearing that same dress. I felt my stomach churn with disgust and immediately grabbed a different dress. As I brushed past them to enter the fitting room, the studio assistant covered her mouth and giggled, whispering, “Hey, Chloe. They say wearing the same outfit is only embarrassing for the uglier one. Look at her running off to get a different dress immediately.” Chloe offered a small smile, but it wasn’t out of kindness; it was pure contempt. However, I couldn’t care less. After changing into a new dress, I sat down on the chair for the shoot. Greg walked over and gently put his arms around my shoulder. Right as the shutter was about to click, Chloe suddenly clutched her chest and collapsed to the floor. “Greg, it hurts so much.” The hand on my shoulder disappeared instantly as Greg rushed over to her side. He scooped her up in his arms and sprinted out the door, never casting a single glance back at me through the entire ordeal. The studio assistant looked at me with eyes full of pity. Yet, I sat there with perfect posture, offering a calm smile. “Let’s keep shooting,” I said. The studio assistant froze for a second, pursed her lips, and then carried on with the shoot. When it was over, I left the studio feeling satisfied. This was a memory meant solely for my baby and me. It didn’t matter at all whether that man was part of it or not. … Stepping outside, I realized the wind was strong, so I decided to check into a nearby hotel. Not long after I lay down, my phone began to buzz incessantly. It was Greg calling, but I ignored it. After three consecutive attempts, my phone finally stopped ringing. However, as I was about to fall asleep, I suddenly received a text message. When I clicked it open, it was a photo of Chloe curled up tightly in Greg’s arms. She was even wearing my pajamas. Five seconds later, the photo was deleted. [Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I sent that to the wrong person.] I knew perfectly well she had done it on purpose, but strangely, I didn’t feel angry at all. I simply turned off my phone, put it face down, and went right back to sleep. The next morning, I took a cab back home. When I pushed the front door open, a party was happening inside. Meanwhile, Greg was staring at his phone with a deep frown. Hearing the door click, he looked up, and our eyes met instantly. His expression softened considerably without him realizing it, but there was still a hint of reproach in his tone. “So you’re finally home!” I replied indifferently, “The wind was too strong last night, so I stayed at a hotel.” After saying that, I braced myself for Greg’s inevitable outburst. Yet, to my surprise, he just gave a quiet grunt and said calmly, “I know. I tracked your location on your phone. But in the future, if you’re staying out, you need to let me know.” My hands froze as I was taking off my coat. I turned to look at him, completely incredulous. “Since when did you put a tracker on my phone?” “It’s for your own safety.” He didn’t elaborate further. Instead, he turned around to introduce me to the crowd gathered in the living room. They were all his friends, but over the years, I hadn’t seen them outside of our wedding. Chloe, on the other hand, was clearly far more familiar with them than I was. So, she took on the role of the host and playfully introduced each one of them to me. “This is Big Ben. He makes the absolute best pot roast!” “This is Arthur. He’s an artist!” “And this is Liam. He’s pretty cute, but he loves to play pranks on people!” The whole group burst into laughter. Big Ben pretended to be offended, teasing, “Aw, Chloe is biased. Why does Liam get the special treatment?” Chloe puffed out her cheeks, immediately throwing herself into the group as they bantered and laughed together. From the start, not one of them looked at me properly, let alone bothered to greet me. However, I didn’t really mind. They had grown up together, after all, and I had never intended to force my way into their circle. Greg watched Chloe with eyes full of affection, and a low chuckle escaped his lips. I set off toward the bedroom, but the moment I spun around, something in the trash bin caught my eye, and my entire body went stiff. I shuffled over with heavy steps, and there, lying in the bin, were the pickles my mother had made for me before she passed away. Ringing filled my ears, and all the blood seemed to drain from my face. My mom had passed away suddenly, and this was the very last thing she had ever left for me. She had spent a whole week preparing it, and I just couldn’t bring myself to throw it out. Yet now, looking at the pickles mixed in with garbage… Tears streamed down my face, and my voice trembled violently as I asked, “Who threw this away?” In the living room, they were still laughing and fooling around; not one of them had noticed my voice, not until I repeated myself three times. Chapter 3 The room instantly fell silent. They all exchanged glances, the atmosphere awkward. Greg placed his hand heavily on my shoulder, whispering, “Chloe threw it out. She said it was full of bacteria. She was just looking out for your health.” Looking out for my health? He knew damn well that jar was the last thing my mother left me before she passed. I wasn’t going to eat it, and I wasn’t making Chloe eat it either. Who was she to throw it away without asking? Yet, of course, he only ever lectured me. He never respected me, let alone cared about the things I held dear. Tears began to fall from my eyes. Stunned, Greg reached up to touch my face, but I brushed his hand away. Immediately, Chloe let out a sharp shriek. She threw herself in front of Greg, shielding him with an angry look. “Trisha, I’m the one who threw out the jar! If you have a problem, take it out on me!” Big Ben, who wasn’t happy either, muttered under his breath, “It’s just a stupid jar of homemade pickles. Is it really worth making a scene and ruining everyone’s mood?” Liam didn’t even bother hiding his impatience. “Chloe majored in biology. Doesn’t she know more about food safety? Talk about biting the hand that feeds you.” Every word they said favored Chloe, painting me as some unreasonable, toxic villain. At the same time, they shot Greg sympathetic looks, as if asking how he ended up marrying someone like me. However, I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of them. All I cared about was the jar of pickles my mom made for me. With tears crashing against the floor, I dropped to my knees and reached into the trash bin, trying to salvage what I could. Greg panicked and grabbed my arm to pull me back up. “What are you doing? You’re pregnant!” A glint flashed in Chloe’s eyes. She rushed over, kneeling beside me to dig through the trash as well, her voice breaking with sobs. “It’s my fault. I’ll help you pick it up.” Her words sounded sincere, but the tips of her fingernails dug into the back of my hand. The sharp pain made me flinch, and I instinctively pushed her away. Chloe collapsed backward onto the floor, looking up at me miserably, her face in tears. The next second, everyone in the living room rushed forward in front of her and glared at me with hostility. Greg barked in a deep voice, “Trisha! Have you lost your mind?” I didn’t say a word. I just quietly gathered what was left of my mother’s gift. Greg’s face turned incredibly grim. He grabbed me roughly, clearly determined to demand justice for Chloe. “Trisha, apologize. Now!” I looked at him calmly, refusing to back down. This wasn’t the first time Greg had twisted the truth to blame me. In the past, I had been weak. I hadn’t wanted my mom to worry, so I endured it all and always gave in. Yet now, the only family I had left was gone. I had absolutely no reason to endure this anymore. “Greg, let’s get a divorce.” The moment the words left my mouth, Greg’s face turned ugly. In our two years of marriage, we had argued and fought, but I had never once brought up divorce. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Chloe spoke up in a fragile, gentle voice. “Trisha, woman to woman, I’d advise you not to play hard to get. You’re so far along in your pregnancy. There’s no way you’d actually get a divorce. What are you going to do, abort the baby?” Those words instantly stirred up a storm. If there was one thing Greg hated above all else, it was being threatened. He stared down at me, his voice filled with disappointment. “Trisha, you’ve been spoiled too much. You shall stay home and think about what you’ve done!” With that, he grabbed Chloe’s hand and stormed out the door. Within seconds, the entire house fell dead silent, leaving me all alone. After I packed away what was left of the jar, my phone gave a sudden buzz. It was a text reminder from the clinic that the procedure was scheduled in five days. So, I went to the bedroom, gathered my ID and essentials, and quietly waited for that day to arrive. However, the very next morning, my best friend called me in a frantic rush. “Trish! Check the news right now!” I opened the news app, and the top story was a paparazzi photo of Greg. He and Chloe were walking hand-in-hand down a beach. Chloe had a sweet smile on her face, and a fresh tattoo of Greg’s name was visible on her waist. The media also pointed out that the wedding ring Greg had worn for two years was missing from his finger. Naturally, the tabloids began speculating about the state of our marriage. They even fabricated a lengthy article about the epic, star-crossed romance between Greg and Chloe. With that, their old shippers from high school immediately resurfaced, swarming and attacking my personal social media accounts. Chapter 4 [I heard you’re the one who came between them and forced them to break up. How shameless can you be, you filthy homewrecker?] [So you’re pregnant, huh? You’d better get an abortion, and fast. Don’t you dare bring that kid into the world and make Chloe sad.] [The man’s heart isn’t with you. No matter how hard you force it, it’s useless. Just let this poor couple go.] The public backlash grew worse by the day, dominating the headlines for three whole days. There was no way Greg didn’t know what kind of situation I was in, but he did nothing about it. I knew he was waiting for me to bow my head. In our relationship, he had always been the dominant one. He controlled what I wore, what I ate, and even monitored where I went. All of his gentleness and tolerance went to Chloe, while what was left for me was nothing but his assertiveness and coldness. He was trying to prove to me that he could still live a perfectly happy life without me—that without him, I was absolutely nothing. He wanted me to react just like I used to, crying, sobbing, and begging for his forgiveness; he wanted me to curl up in his arms like a caged bird with clipped wings. Unfortunately, I was no longer willing to play that part. On the fourth day, Greg finally came home. As it was raining heavily that day, he was soaked to the skin, and there was no telling how long he had been standing outside. He looked at me with a complex, dark expression. It looked a little like sadness and a little like resentment. As he stepped toward me, he suddenly realized how cold he was being. So, he hurriedly ripped off his wet coat and pulled me tightly into his arms. His muffled voice came from above my head. “I’ve booked a prenatal checkup for you. I will definitely go with you this time. I thought it over, and I was wrong about the jar of pickles. I should’ve stopped her back then. The rumors were an accident. I’ve told the company to handle it. No one will insult you anymore.” Greg stared at me intently, hoping I would take the peace offering just like I always did. The carrot-and-stick approach was his favorite trick. However, I knew that as long as Chloe was in the picture, I would always be the one Greg cast aside, and I was so tired of this constant tug-of-war. Without saying a word, I walked back into the bedroom. Greg tried to follow me inside, but just then, his phone rang with Chloe’s custom ringtone. Greg held his phone and stared at it for a long time. Even as the veins on the back of his hand bulged, he didn’t pick up. After taking a shower, he lay down on the bed and wrapped his arms around me. “It’s over between her and me,” he murmured. “Don’t overthink things.” I turned my head to look at the hand resting on my waist. He was wearing his wedding ring again, but I knew we could never go back to how we used to be. … When I woke up the next morning, it was the day of my abortion. Coincidentally, this was also the day Greg had scheduled the prenatal checkup. It was going to be the very first time he accompanied me to the hospital. The usually composed, powerful CEO was acting like a nervous teenager today. He double-checked the items we needed to bring three or four times before he finally stopped. I watched him, and just as I was about to open my mouth to tell him my plans, his phone chimed. Greg instinctively unlocked the screen, but in the next second, all the color drained from his face. With a loud clatter, the phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor. On the screen was a photo of a bloody wrist. Greg scrambled to pick it up and rushed toward the door. “Wait–” Before I could even finish my sentence, he turned back and pleaded desperately, “Just this once. This will be the last time. Chloe is doing something foolish, and I can’t just stand by and watch her die!” I smiled gently and took the ID and documents from his hand. “Go ahead,” I said calmly. “I just wanted to get my things back.” Greg froze for a moment, but he didn’t have time to overthink it. So, he turned and walked quickly toward the exit. Yet, halfway out, he suddenly remembered my reaction over the past few days, and an inexplicable panic overcame him. He ran back inside, pulled me into a fierce embrace, and whispered reassuringly, “Go to the hospital and wait for me there. I will definitely show up this time.” Immediately after that, he vanished through the door. I withdrew my gaze, walked outside, and hailed a cab to the hospital. The moment I was wheeled into the operating room, I finally let out a long, deep sigh of relief. As the anesthetic was injected into my body, my eyelids grew heavy, and I let them fall shut.