After Seven Years,I Was Never His Wife

"Miss Griffin, your husband’s marital status doesn’t list you as his spouse. Did you perhaps enter the wrong ID number?"

The nurse in charge of registering spousal details for the pregnancy record looked at me, clearly troubled.

"That’s impossible. My husband is Brynn Murphy. Could you please check again?"

Reluctantly, the nurse searched once more.

"The system shows that Brynn’s ID is already linked to another marriage record. The name listed in the spouse column is Sylvie Gibson."

A silent explosion went off in my head. My ears buzzed, drowning out the world.

Sylvie.

The same woman the Murphy family praised to the heavens, his socalled “goddesslike” godsister.

Every New Year, she’d sit at our dinner table, smiling sweetly as she filled Brynn’s bowl with food.

He always brushed her off, calling her silly, overly emotional, uneducated, and annoying.

I used to laugh, teasing him, "She’s your godsister; how can you say that about her?"

But now, how could she just be a godsister?

She was the one legally married to him.

She was listed as the legal wife on his marriage certificate.

I clutched my faintly aching abdomen. The joy I had felt moments ago, upon learning I was pregnant, had vanished, replaced by something cold and absurd.

Seven years of loving companionship, a marriage others envied, had it all been nothing but a cruel illusion?

I couldn’t even register what the nurse said next. I completed the paperwork alone, muddleheaded like I was walking through fog.

By the time I sat in the car and returned home, I felt like a stranger in my own body.

Before I could even open the front door, I heard Brynn on the phone inside.

"Brynn, you’re about to turn thirty. Isn’t it time to divorce the one from the old house and give Natalie a proper title?"

There was a pause. Then Brynn said casually, "No rush. Sylvie’s father just passed. The inheritance hasn’t been divided yet. If I divorce her now, she won’t stand a chance against her brothers."

"And Natalie? You’re really going to make her raise that woman’s child for you?"

Brynn let out a sigh, irritation creeping into his voice.

"What else can I do? He’s my biological son. Sylvie begged me to give the kid a proper identity, so I used adoption as a cover."

"Natalie won’t be mad. She’s so in love with me; she’ll love my son just because he’s mine. Besides, I never planned to tell her the truth."

I leaned against the wall of the room, tears falling silently, pain searing through my abdomen wave after wave.

No wonder Brynn, who had always been indifferent to children, had recently kept bringing up a "late friend’s kid," saying how wellbehaved and smart the child was.

He said if he had the chance, he’d really want to adopt him.

I remembered, when we first got married, how terrified he was about my health.

Every time he heard stories of women dying in childbirth, he would hold me close, tears in his eyes, begging me not to take that risk.

For seven long years, we never tried to conceive.

Lately, however, the way he spoke about children has changed.

That’s why, when I accidentally got pregnant this time, I hadn’t told him yet; I wanted to surprise him, to tell him I was keeping it.

I never imagined the surprise would become a slap in the face.

This child wasn’t a blessing. It was the crack that shattered the illusion of our marriage.

A sharp throb pounded behind my eyes. Pain twisted through my abdomen like a fist squeezing from the inside.

The world blurred. My ears buzzed. I gripped the doorframe just to stay upright.

“Natalie?”

Brynn’s voice cut through the ringing. He must’ve sensed something was wrong; he hung up at once, and his hurried footsteps drew closer.

Before I could move, he had already swept me into his arms.

“If you’re feeling weak, don’t speak.”

He pressed his forehead gently against mine. "I’ll call the family doctor. Your face is deathly pale."

I clenched my teeth and forced the lie through trembling lips. "It’s my period, the cramps, same as always. No need for a doctor."

Brynn let out a breath of relief, his shoulders loosening as he turned toward the kitchen.

"Lie down and don’t move. I’ll make you some ginger tea."

Soon, the clatter of bowls echoed from the kitchen, followed by the soft whoosh of the stove lighting.

He always peeled the ginger slowly, carefully, as if handling something delicate. Layer by layer, he made sure not a speck of dirt remained, just so the tea wouldn’t sting my throat.

He even tasted it first before handing it to me, just to be sure.

"Blow on it a bit before you drink." He squatted beside me, looking up at me with his usual gentle tone.

I took the ginger tea in my hands. It was slightly warm.

This man who had treated me so well, Brynn, the one I had loved for seven years, could he truly deceive me about something as sacred as marriage?

Could it really have been a hospital’s mistake?

I grabbed Brynn’s hand, searching his face as doubt swirled in my chest.

With a tentative smile, I asked softly, "Hubby, I went to sign up for a class today. They were running a promotion that said couples who showed their marriage certificate could get a discount. Where’s ours again?"

A flicker of tension crossed Brynn’s face. His voice came stiff, strained.

"How much of a discount could it really be? I’ll just pay for you myself. The certificate’s buried at the back of the safe; it’s a hassle to dig out."

The moment I saw his expression shift, my heart cracked wide open.

I placed the ginger tea down on the table. It tasted warm, but in my throat, it felt more suffocating than poison.

I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

My mind kept drifting back to the past; it had been Brynn who had pursued me from the start.

He wasn’t like the others. He never flattered, never chased with hollow gestures. He simply appeared, quiet and steady, weaving himself into my life little by little until all my pride and clarity were slowly worn away.

I still remembered the moment I truly fell for him, it was seven years ago, during a business trip to France.

He had contacted the perfumery I often visited a week in advance, asking the artisan to craft a limitededition fragrance based on a scent I had once blended myself.

The night I landed in France, the perfume arrived, along with a handwritten card.

"You once said scent could carry memories of love. So, will it help you remember me?"

He never spoke of what he had done.

Back then, my father didn’t approve. He said Brynn came from nothing, that we were worlds apart in status.

But Brynn didn’t argue. Just a month later, he merged a newly acquired pharmaceutical company into my family’s business, tripling its value overnight, earning my father’s respect through sheer action.

By then, I already knew I couldn’t live without him.

I went to my father and said, "I will marry him."

Our wedding was grand, a dream bathed in luxury. He held my hand and vowed, "From this day on, through rain or shine, I’ll protect you for the rest of my life."

I had once truly believed I’d married the right man in this lifetime.

Brynn spoiled me, understood me, respected me. He never tried to control me, never forced his will on me.

Instead, he wrapped me gently in his world, soft, steady, like silk winding around the heart.

His love left its mark on everything around me.

But I never imagined that just when I had surrendered completely, just when I had fallen hopelessly in love with him, he would deal me such a cruel, merciless blow.

The very next day, I hired a private investigator. By nightfall, I was holding a photo of Brynn’s actual marriage certificate.

The date stamped on it was from ten years ago. And in that photo, he was standing next to Sylvie.

Ten years. He had been married to Sylvie for ten years. And I had only been with him for seven.

The investigator explained that it had been an arranged marriage, set up by his family in their old house, meant to ward off bad luck. A fortune teller had said it only needed to last until he turned thirty. After that, they could part ways.

If Brynn had been honest with me from the start, I might have respected him.

But he chose to hide everything and even secretly had a child with that legal wife.

The thought of Brynn in bed with another woman made my stomach churn. I stumbled into the bathroom and vomited violently.

The sound must’ve woken him. Brynn rushed over, eyes turning red with panic as he reached for me.

“No, honey, we’re going to the hospital!”

I stared at the man before me, tears choking my voice as I asked, "Brynn, do you love me?"

He froze for a brief moment, then, without hesitation, pulled me into his arms and whispered, "Honey, of course I love you. You’re the one I love the most. What’s wrong? Did you have a bad dream?"

But how could a dream compare to this cruel reality?

He had been married to another woman for ten years. He had a child with her. And still, he couldn’t even bring himself to end it.

Was this really the love I once believed in?

I shut my eyes and wept in silence.

The next day, Brynn said he wanted to take me back to his hometown to visit "his deceased friend’s child," Solomon.

I didn’t refuse.

I had never truly looked at that child before. But today, I needed to see for myself.

I wouldn’t be able to let go unless I saw the truth with my own eyes.

Solomon lived in a villa near the old house under the care of her socalled "grandmother."

Brynn told me she was the child of a childhood friend who had passed away and that only her grandmother remained. He said he pitied the child.

He even encouraged me to meet her to see if we had any affinity.

But in my heart, I was cold as stone. Grandmother? Most likely, it was just an actress Brynn had arranged.

Before we even stepped through the door, a woman came running out and flung herself into his arms.

"Brother! You’re finally back! Did you come to see me?"

Sylvie clung to him, her voice soft with familiarity, her eyes brimming with dependence.

"Stop that, so clumsy, you can’t even walk straight!"

Brynn frowned, clearly annoyed, and shoved her off coldly.

The old me would’ve stepped in, smoothed things over, and told Brynn not to be so hard on his 'sister.'

But now, I simply looked at him, catching that brief flicker of gentleness that passed through his eyes.

I said nothing. I turned and walked upstairs, not to find Solomon, but to stand just beyond their sight, quietly watching from the staircase.

As expected, the moment I disappeared from view, Sylvie leaned into him again, her voice sweet as syrup.

"Brother, when are you going to give Solomon a rightful name? He cries every night for his daddy; it breaks my heart."

“Soon, just wait a little longer. Didn’t I already bring Natalie to see Solomon?”

When I wasn’t around, Brynn didn’t push Sylvie away again.

“Brother, Solomon is still so young. I really can’t bear it. After all, I carried him in my womb for ten months.”

Her voice was soft, tinged with grievance, like a whisper soaked in tears.

“Mom really likes Solomon too. She says he’s just like you were as a child, smart, obedient, and easy to love.”

At once, the image of that motherinlaw who’d never spared me a kind word rose vividly in my mind.

The whole Murphy family, from top to bottom, had played me like a fiddle.

For seven long years, through every New Year, every holiday, they’d sat and watched me and Sylvie on either side of Brynn. Did they think their son was reliving some ancient fantasy, one wife, one concubine?

Downstairs, Brynn stood straight as a board, his tone laced with impatience.

“I’ve already promised you Solomon will have the status of the Murphy family’s grandson. That’s as far as I’ll go. Don’t get greedy. My wife will always be Natalie.”

Hearing that, Sylvie’s expression faltered for a split second, but in the next moment, she composed herself. As if nothing had happened, she lifted her hand and let her fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt.

Her smile turned sultry, but her voice carried a sugarcoated complaint.

“I never asked for much. Being listed as your ‘wife’ on the household registry is enough for me. Brother, tell me, between her and me, who’s wilder in bed?”

My chest tightened as if my breath had been slashed by a dull blade.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Brynn, desperate to see how he would react.

But what I saw made my heart plummet, his gaze turned hazy, his pupils darkening, and his Adam’s apple moved slightly.

In the next instant, he shoved Sylvie against the wall at the turn of the hallway, lowered his head close to her lips, and muttered hoarsely, “Of course, it’s you. Who could be wilder than you?”

Sylvie giggled, her fingers lazily hooking at his chest.

I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, my grip tight on the handrail, my knuckles turning white.

Hearing that, what else was left to figure out?

Brynn and Sylvie had been together all along, behind my back. And they weren’t just sneaky about it; they were playing with fire.

I remembered how, once upon a time, when Brynn had been swept up in passion, he’d suggested trying something more adventurous. But I, shy and hesitant, had refused.

Back then, he hadn’t pushed me. He simply held me and promised he’d listen to me.

I had thought it was kindness.

Now, I saw it for what it was; every single thing I’d refused, he’d probably shared with Sylvie.

My heart froze, and I couldn’t bear to watch it any longer.

I stomped heavily down the stairs.

The sharp click of my heels against the floor broke the silence, and in an instant, they sprang apart.

Brynn shoved Sylvie away so quickly, as if nothing had happened, then turned to me.

“Why are you down here so soon, honey? Did you enjoy meeting Solomon?”

I saw right through his calm act, and something lodged in my throat, I couldn’t get a word out.

Happy? How could I be happy?

He handed me another woman’s child, expecting me to play the role of the kind, understanding stepmother. Did he think I’d jump at the chance?

I forced my voice to remain steady, though it felt hollow as I said, “I thought about it. I’ve decided not to adopt.”

The moment the words escaped, Brynn’s face went pale.

“Why, honey?”

I clenched my fists until my nails.

How old was Solomon?

Seven.

And I had been married to Brynn for seven years.

Which meant, the year I eagerly stepped into this marriage, he already had a child.

All those years, I’d feared having children, and he’d comforted me with promises of not needing them; his child had already been running around, growing up.

And now, as I had finally come to terms with having a child of my own, his child was about to start elementary school.

Why, Brynn?

Why didn’t you tell me?

“I just don’t want to raise him,” I said, my voice flat and emotionless.

“Natalie, you’re so coldblooded.”

For the first time, Brynn’s eyes held nothing but disappointment, his expression as cold as ice.

“Solomon is my childhood friend’s only child. Before the accident, his only concern was ensuring Solomon had a home.”

I stared at him, silent.

He was still playing his part, still weaving his lies. And he played them so convincingly.

If I didn’t already know the truth, maybe I would’ve felt a stab of guilt at his words.

“Sisterinlaw, don’t be so heartless,” Sylvie piped up, her voice oozing sweetness. “He’s just a child. Don’t you have any compassion?”

From upstairs, the elderly woman descended slowly, Solomon clinging to her leg like a timid shadow.

She shot me a disapproving look, her face twisted in judgment.

“Madam, Solomon’s such a sensible child. Don’t you think you should soften your heart? You don’t have children of your own. It would bring some life into the house.”

They spoke in perfect unison, like a wellrehearsed play, each word designed to pierce my heart with guilt.

Pain twisted in my lower abdomen, and cold sweat trickled down my spine.

“Brynn, we could have our own child,” I said through clenched teeth, staring him down. “Why adopt?”

A flicker of broken hope shone in my eyes, but I still gave him one last chance.

But he only frowned, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“I can’t bear to see you suffer through childbirth. If you want, we can try later. Solomon is so sensible; maybe he’d make a good older brother…”

A loud buzz rang through my mind, my chest feeling as though it was being torn apart.

We had been childless for seven years because of our own issues.

For seven years, people might’ve said we weren’t in a rush.

But once we adopted a child, what would others think?

Men never understood the sting of having people stare at your stomach, their eyes full of pity.

He hadn’t even considered that.

I let out a bitter laugh, cold as shards of ice.

“In that case, why not let Sylvie adopt him? Didn’t she always say she wouldn’t marry? Perfect chance for her to have a companion. Or let your mom raise him, another little brother would liven things up around here.”

“Enough!”

Brynn’s face twisted in anger. For the first time in seven years, he snapped at me.

“Natalie, stop being so unreasonable.”

“Sylvie’s a woman; how could she adopt a child?”

“My mom is too old; how could she possibly take in a child again?”

He shielded Sylvie behind him, his anger a mask for the guilt in his eyes.

My last shred of hope for Brynn shattered with those words, like falling from a cliff and crashing to pieces.

Looking at him, standing protectively over Sylvie, my heart went numb.

His heart had already turned, hadn’t it?

I murmured, barely any emotion in my voice: “Fine, go ahead and adopt.”

After all, it had nothing to do with me.

We weren’t even legally married.

The child wouldn’t be registered under my name anyway.

Brynn seemed stunned for a moment before quickly exhaling in relief and immediately apologizing. “Honey, I’m sorry. I was too harsh just now. That was my fault.”

Afraid I’d change my mind, he hastily left with the old woman to continue their act.

Solomon stood at the top of the stairs, staring at me like a lifeless doll. His eyes mirrored Brynn’s exactly.

A wave of unease washed over me. My steps faltered, and I gripped the handrail tightly as I descended.

“Natalie, feeling proud of yourself?” Sylvie sneered suddenly.

I hadn’t even processed her words when a sharp, tumbling noise echoed through the house, and Solomon actually fell down the stairs.

He tumbled and landed on the soft mat below, a heartwrenching cry exploding from him instantly.

“Solomon!”

Sylvie knelt on the floor, her trembling hands clutching the child tightly, tears streaming down her face as she desperately wiped at the scrape on his forehead.

“Don’t scare me, Solomon, open your eyes and look at me…”

At that moment, Brynn rushed in, his eyes landing on Sylvie, crying as she held Solomon.

“What happened?!”

“Brother, I saw it with my own eyes! Sisterinlaw pushed Solomon down the stairs!!”

Sylvie finally gathered the courage to speak, her voice breaking like a pear blossom drenched in rain.

“She doesn’t like Solomon, fine, but why would she hurt him?”

Brynn suddenly scooped Solomon up, his face painted with concern.

In his arms, Solomon weakly tugged at his sleeve and whispered pitifully, “Daddy, I’m fine. Auntie didn’t mean to. I fell by accident.”

Hearing that, Brynn’s eyes shot daggers at me, a strange chill creeping into his gaze.

“Natalie, when did you become so vicious?! You’d better pray nothing happens to the child.”

He stood before me, his voice low and dangerous:

“I’ve spoiled you too much. If anything happens to Solomon, don’t ever show your face in front of me again.”

That sentence hit me like a hammer.

I stayed silent; not a word escaped my lips in my defense.

Brynn hadn’t seen what really happened, yet he so easily believed the words of that woman and her child.

A chill slowly crept through my limbs, creeping from the soles of my feet all the way to the top of my head.

The man I had believed loved me for seven years now saw me as a villain, convinced that I had intentionally harmed someone.

As the car carried me home, my mind was a whirlwind.

Finally, I reached for my phone and dialed my father’s number.

The call connected quickly, and I could hear the lively chatter of a dinner party in the background.

“Hello? Baby? What made you think of calling Daddy?”

“Did something upset you recently? Or do you miss me? Want to come home and stay with me for a few days?”

But now, it was clear I was wrong. I should’ve listened to him from the beginning. My throat was dry.

“Dad, that marriage alliance you mentioned before, does it still stand?”

There was a clear pause on the other end, followed by a hearty laugh.

“Of course it does! Why the sudden interest? I just so happen to be having dinner with the old man from that family. His son’s been single for seven years, and the old man’s about to lose his mind!”

Just as my father’s voice faded, I heard a familiar male voice from the phone, laughing lightly.

“Uncle, you can’t just expose me like that.”

But I didn’t recognize who it was, or perhaps I just didn’t care anymore.

I closed my eyes, my voice hoarse yet firm as I spoke, “Go ahead and make the arrangements as soon as possible. I’ll sign without hesitation. I’ll cooperate.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and then my father’s voice grew more cautious as he moved to a quieter spot.

“Baby, something’s happened between you and Brynn? You’re not joking, are you? Haven’t you two been married for seven years? Are you getting a divorce?”

I didn’t even know how to respond to his questions.

How could I explain that we were never even married in the first place, so where would a divorce come from?

“I was never married to him.”

I cut him off before he could say more and sent him everything the private investigator had found.

“Dad, go ahead with the marriage arrangement. This time, I’ll do whatever you say.”

With that, I hung up. The screen dimmed, reflecting the pale, hollow look on my face.

The next day, Solomon moved into our home.

Brynn personally prepared a room for him, handling every detail with care.

I remained silent, packing my things bit by bit, sending them back to my original home while also scheduling an abortion appointment for three days later.

I hadn’t even figured out what excuse to use for suggesting separate bedrooms, but Brynn had already, without hesitation, settled into Solomon’s room.

Watching him act like such a devoted father, my heart turned cold from the sting of it.

In my mind, this was the man Brynn would become once I had a child. But now, the love he was giving wasn’t for my child; it was for someone else’s.

That night, Solomon suddenly cried. His sharp wails echoed in my ears, one after another.

I had already been sleeping lightly because of the pregnancy. Hearing Solomon’s cries for his mom, I couldn’t help but wonder if Sylvie would be moving in soon.

Sure enough, within days, Sylvie appeared.

She stood at the living room entrance, two suitcases in hand, her voice soft.

“Sister, brother, I’ve been looking for a job in the city. Can I stay here for a while?”

Brynn frowned, a hint of irritation crossing his face, but he still replied, “You’re so hopeless. Can’t even figure out how to rent a place. Ask your sister; if she agrees, I won’t object.”

I replied with an empty look, my voice flat: “Do as you wish. Stay as long as you like.”

After all, once my surgery was over, I’d be gone.

Brynn noticed something was wrong with me and, with concern, wrapped his arm around me. He asked softly, “Honey, what’s wrong? Why do you look so pale? If you don’t want her here, I’ll ask her to leave.”

I replied in a low voice, “After all, she’s the real lady of the house.”

“What?” Brynn didn’t catch that.

I shook my head.

He was about to speak again, but then Sylvie tripped while tidying up.

His face shifted instantly. He let go of me and rushed over to help her, lifting her carefully and placing her on the sofa before scolding her sharply, “How are you still so clumsy? You’re going to be a mother soon!”

Sylvie pouted, tapping her head playfully, “I’m just silly; I can’t do anything without you. Not like a sister; she’s so mature.”

Her eyes flickered in my direction, laced with challenge.

I smiled faintly, turning away and retreating to my room; just the sight of it made me want to gag.

It was clear now that Sylvie was steadily embedding herself into Brynn’s life, using the child as a clever excuse, step by step.

She was pushing me out, and I was letting her.

I wouldn’t fight for a man like some discarded concubine.

The next day, just as my morning sickness had subsided, I sank onto the sofa to rest while Sylvie was in the kitchen.

Suddenly, Solomon came running over, his small hands clutching a transparent box, his eyes sparkling with excitement:

“Auntie, Auntie! Come see my new friend!”

When I opened my eyes and saw the box, my heart seemed to stop.

Inside wriggled a small snake, no longer than a thumb.

I recoiled instinctively, my voice trembling with panic. “Take it away! Take it away!”

Solomon gazed at me with pleading eyes, his voice soft, “It won’t bite; it’s my favorite pet.”

I shook my head, trembling uncontrollably. “Take it away!”

Brynn strolled over, glanced at the box, then looked at me, his tone flat, “Seriously? It’s just a toy snake. It’s captivebred, nonvenomous.”

“I’m afraid of snakes…” I choked, my words heavy.

“You know I was bitten by one as a child. I had a high fever and almost died. I’ve had a trauma ever since.”

He frowned, his patience thinning. “It’s just a little snake. I’ll put it away, okay? Are you this scared? Isn’t that a bit much?”

I froze.

The man who had once shielded me from everything and always asked me if I was afraid now spoke to me with such impatience.

It suddenly struck me as absurd.

“So now I have to learn to accept what I fear most, too, is that it?”

“That’s not what I meant, honey.”

Brynn’s voice carried a hint of panic, his expression stiffening with unease.

“Daddy, it’s okay if Auntie doesn’t like me,” Solomon murmured softly, his lashes trembling, looking like he might burst into tears.

Seeing that, Brynn’s heart seemed to soften.

He glanced at me, his eyes filled with helplessness and a quiet plea.

“Honey, can you try to accept Solomon?”

“I’ve already locked the snake away,” he added. “Just keep him company for a bit, okay?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I walked over to Solomon and gave him a cursory glance.

“What do you want to play?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, his gaze shifted upward, and a strange smile twisted at the corners of his mouth.

Sensing something was wrong, I instinctively tried to step back, but before I could, he suddenly pulled something from behind his back.

It was a live snake.

Its skin was cold and slick, its tongue flicking out with a hiss. Solomon held it by the tail with two fingers, and without a second thought, he flung it toward me.

“Ah!”

I screamed, my heart hammering in my chest, and I stumbled backward, crashing to the floor. A sharp pain shot through my back, and my head slammed into the edge of the coffee table.

Even worse, a searing pain sliced through my lower abdomen as if a hundred knives were carving through my flesh.

Clutching my stomach, everything went black, and the world around me faded.

“…It hurts… it hurts so much…”

I curled into a ball, the waves of pain crashing over me, cold sweat soaking my back.

“Honey!”

Brynn rushed over, his face drained of color, eyes wide with alarm. “What’s wrong?!”

“I’m pregnant…” I lifted my face toward him, tears spilling down uncontrollably.

He froze for a moment, his face draining of color, turning as white as a sheet. Without a word, he scooped me up and rushed out the door.

Solomon stood there, frozen, his eyes dark with malice no child his age should possess.

Outside the operating room, in my dazed state, I vaguely heard the doctor’s hushed voice.

“The fetus is gone.”

“There’s been excessive bleeding; she’ll need rest and observation.”

I closed my eyes, tears streaming down my face, soaking the pillow beneath me.

Even though I had already decided to end the pregnancy, the sudden loss still crushed my chest, leaving me gasping for air.

Baby, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of this.

When I awoke, I was alone in the hospital room.

The door creaked open, and Brynn stood in the doorway, looking drained, holding a cup of warm water in his hand.

“Honey, why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?”

That was the first thing he said.

I stared at him, the absurdity of his words washing over me.

“So now you’re blaming me? Blaming me for not telling you sooner that I was pregnant? Your son threw a snake at me, and now I’m at fault?”

He paused, his expression softening for just a moment, before he lowered his voice, almost as if changing his tune.

“That’s not what I meant, honey. You don’t know how terrified I was when I saw you bleeding; I was so afraid of losing you. From now on, let’s just focus on raising Solomon. I don’t want you to go through the pain of pregnancy again.”

I turned my head away, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle over me.

He was still playing the part of the loving man.

“But honey, Solomon didn’t mean it…” Brynn explained softly.

“He said he thought you liked animals; it was just a misunderstanding. Don’t be too hard on him, okay? He’s still a child. He might even be the only child we ever have—”

I bit my lip so hard it nearly bled.

“So that’s it? It’s over? He scared me with a snake. I lost our baby, and that’s how it ends?”

Brynn stood there, speechless, unable to find a response.

The silence was broken by Sylvie entering, carrying a steaming bowl of carrot and chicken soup, her voice soft and gentle.

“Sisterinlaw, you’ve just had a miscarriage, and your body is weak. I stewed this for two hours.”

Her mention of the miscarriage brought a brief flicker of relief in her eyes.

I glanced at the bowl, my vision clouded by a familiar sting.

Carrots. The one thing I had hated since childhood.

Brynn didn’t notice. He coaxed gently, “Honey, just drink a little. Don’t be stubborn; you need to nourish your body now.”

I raised my hand and sent the bowl crashing to the floor, the hot soup splattering across the tiles, filling the room with its sweet, meaty scent.

“I said I’m not drinking it.” I gritted my teeth. “Do you not understand what I’m saying?”

“Natalie!” Brynn finally snapped.

“You’re emotionally unstable because of the miscarriage, I get that. But you can’t take it out on Sylvie! She worked hard to make this soup!”

I shut my eyes, not wanting to face either of them.

“Fine. You stay here and calm down.”

Brynn’s voice turned icy as he dragged the pitifullooking Sylvie out of the hospital room.

In the days that followed, he didn’t come near me.

I saw Sylvie posting pictures of Brynn taking her and Solomon to Disneyland on social media.

I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.

Brynn’s love for me had never been as deep as I had imagined.

All the warmth I thought I saw had been filtered through my own blind affection for him. When my postpartum confinement ended, I returned to that house, no, their house.

I opened the storage room and began slicing my wedding dress, piece by piece, with scissors.

Wedding photos? Gone.

Videotapes? Gone.

All the foolish keepsakes? Thrown to the floor.

Everything that held memories of sweetness between me and Brynn shattered it all.

The last thing I shattered was the glass photo frame I always kept by my bedside.

With a sharp crack, it hit the ground, and the glass splintered into a spiderweb of cracks, slicing into my calf.

Blood began to trickle down in a winding path, staining my slippers red.

The housekeeper had stood frozen in shock since I started destroying everything, and when she saw the blood, she panicked and secretly called Brynn.

He rushed back, his footsteps frantic. The moment he entered, he saw me leaning against the sofa, expression indifferent, my leg stained with blood.

“Honey!”

He hurried over, scooping me into his arms and placing me on the sofa. His voice shook, “What happened? How did you get hurt?”

I lowered my gaze, murmuring, “I accidentally cut myself.”

“Accidentally? How did you break so many things?” His eyes flickered to the shattered wedding photos on the floor, his heart tightening.

“Are you angry with me? Are you upset that I’ve been away these past few days?”

I didn’t answer. I simply shifted my leg, pulling away from his reaching hand as he tried to apply the ointment.

He grabbed my ankle and began wrapping it carefully, his expression more flustered than mine.

“Don’t move; let me do it. It won’t hurt.”

As he dabbed disinfectant onto the wound, he spoke quickly, almost breathlessly, “I know I was wrong. I’ve really neglected you these past few days, but it’s not because I don’t care. I’ve just been caught up in Solomon’s matters.”

“If you’re angry, take it out on me. Yell at me, scream at me, just don’t hurt yourself, alright?”

His hands were gentle as if he feared I might shatter with the slightest pressure.

“We can retake the wedding photos, reshoot the video, or do whatever you want. Anything you don’t like, we’ll change. Just don’t do this to yourself again.”

I looked at him in silence for a long moment, then slowly gave a nod.

Yes, anything I didn’t like could be changed.

And from now on, I wouldn’t be the one hurting myself anymore.

Seeing me nod, Brynn finally exhaled, like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Honey, I’m so glad you’re not mad anymore. Come here, let me hold you.”

He pulled me into his arms, burying his face against my neck like a child needing comfort.

But I had a feeling he wasn’t done yet.

Sure enough, later on Instagram, he said, “Honey, I’m turning thirty soon. I’m planning to use my birthday to publicly announce Solomon’s identity, to let the world know he’s my son.”

“After the celebration, I’ll take you both on a vacation to the island. Didn’t we buy a private island a while ago? We never got the chance to go, but now’s the perfect time.”

He smiled, eyes shining with anticipation.

“Didn’t you always say how wonderful it would be to wake up every morning to the sound of waves and sunlight pouring into the room?”

“Let’s go there together, the three of us, as one happy family, alright?”

I leaned back against the sofa, my head spinning slightly.

“Okay,” I replied softly.

You three go together happily as a family.

And I, the outsider, would quietly disappear.

He seemed stunned for a moment, as though surprised I agreed so easily. Slowly, a smile crept onto his face.

“Honey, what birthday gift are you preparing for me this year?” Brynn looked at me with expectation in his eyes.

I curved my lips and answered, “A surprise.”

His eyes lit up instantly. He pulled me into his arms, whispering about how wonderful I was.

These past few days, he had been occupied helping Sylvie with her inheritance matters, everything had finally been settled today.

That meant he no longer needed to maintain that marriage.

He could, just like the fortune teller said, divorce Sylvie when he turned thirty.

Then, he could officially become my husband, in name and in law.

But I didn’t know that was what he had in mind.

And he didn’t know I had once planned to tell him about my pregnancy as his birthday surprise.

But now, I had already spoken with my father.

On his birthday, I would go home and fulfill the arranged marriage.

Perhaps because Brynn’s birthday was drawing near, Sylvie began to lose her grip. She started provoking me on purpose, trying every trick to get under my skin.

The day before his birthday, she walked downstairs holding a stack of folders. It was as if, by accident, a few papers had slipped from her hands and scattered right at my feet.

Looking down, I saw a photocopy of a marriage certificate.

She bent down in a hurry, pretending to be flustered, and muttered, “Oh no, it fell down. Sorry. I was making copies for my ID renewal and forgot to put it away.”

I said nothing. I didn’t even lift my eyes.

She paused, clearly thrown off, then forced a smile and added,

“Sisterinlaw, you probably didn’t see it clearly, right? I look terrible in the photo, so embarrassing.”

She kept her eyes locked on mine, desperate to find a crack in my expression, a flicker of emotion, a hint of jealousy. But there was nothing.

I closed my book and replied coolly, “Didn’t see it. Pack up your things and leave the room.”

Sylvie stood frozen, lips trembling, before biting down in defeat and walking away with her tail between her legs.

But she wasn’t finished.

That afternoon, as I headed out to run a few errands, I passed the garden and caught the voices of a few elderly women chatting away:

“That little boy, Solomon, right? He’s the spitting image of his father! Especially those eyes, just like how Mr. Brynn looked when he was young.”

“More than that, I think he even resembles his godsister. The nose, the corners of the mouth, it’s uncanny. Like they were cut from the same mold…”

“Anyone who didn’t know better would think they’re the real married couple.”

I stood quietly by the wall, sipping from a glass of water.

The reflection on the glass mirrored my blank expression.

Of course, Solomon looked like them.

He was their child.

It was clear then Sylvie had begun to panic.

She feared I wouldn’t walk away from Brynn. And if I stayed, all her careful schemes would crumble into dust, leaving her with nothing.

So she made a gamble, one last reckless move to push me out for good.

On the day of the birthday banquet, the hall brimmed with guests.

Sylvie stepped in, bold and brazen in a striking red dress, holding Solomon’s hand like a queen making her grand entrance, like she was claiming her throne for all to see.

“Mommy, can we sit here?”

“Yes, Solomon, be good.”

She smiled, poised and radiant. Solomon’s voice rang out, “Mommy!”

Heads turned instantly.

The crowd stirred into a frenzy.

“Wait, wasn’t Sylvie supposed to be Brynn’s godsister? That boy’s already so big?”

“Didn’t Brynn always date Natalie? Since when did the kid start calling Sylvie ‘Mommy’?”

“Divorced? When did that happen? I’ve never heard a word!”

“Godsister? More like a mistress in disguise!”

Brynn’s face went rigid. Just as he moved to stand and explain, Solomon clutched Sylvie’s leg tightly and shouted even louder, “She’s my real mommy! Aunt Natalie isn’t! Daddy, can Mommy live with us too?”

A heavy silence fell across the room like a curtain.

The elders looked at each other, confused and uneasy.

Even Brynn’s friends were at a loss, exchanging puzzled glances.

Brynn stood frozen. Solomon, suddenly defiant, kept calling Sylvie “Mom.”

He tried calling me, hoping I would pick up and clear the air.

But all he got was a cold, mechanical voice. “The number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable.”

His brows knitted together. Before he could dial again, whispers stirred nearby, “I think they really divorced. Natalie just posted on her Instagram.”

“What?!”

Brynn’s voice caught in his throat. His fingers trembled as he yanked out his phone and pulled up my page.

His gaze froze.