Part 3Not What He Wanted

I answered, but before I could speak, I heard it.

The unmistakable sounds of two people in bed.

Then Robin's voice, usually so gentle, now laced with a theatrical, breathy sob. "Liam... we can't. This is so wrong... What about Nina?"

"Just this once," Liam's voice pleaded, thick with desire. "She'll never know. Please, Robin, I'm begging you."

My heart didn't even flutter. The parrot we'd had for two years had suddenly learned to talk, and would often squawk, "Love my Birdie! Love my Birdie!" I'd always found it strange. Liam was a reserved man; he never said things like that to me. I thought the parrot had picked it up from the TV.

Now I knew the truth. It was never my birdie. It was his. They had been together for far longer than I could have ever imagined.

Through the phone, I could hear Robin's broken moans, a mix of pleasure and feigned pain. I felt nothing. I calmly recorded a snippet of the call, hung up, and started looking up divorce lawyers.

Later that night, hunger gnawed at me. I found half a sausage in the fridge. But after two bites, a violent wave of nausea surged up my throat. I barely made it to the toilet before I was retching uncontrollably. When I finally stood up, my legs shaking, an alarm bell went off in my head.

With trembling hands, I took a pregnancy test.

When the two pink lines appeared, the last of my defenses crumbled.

I lay in bed in a stupor, finally falling asleep as the first hints of dawn colored the sky.

When I woke up, Liam was home.

He was moving quietly through the living room, tidying the mess I'd made, pulling a blanket over me where I’d fallen asleep on the sofa. Now he was in the kitchen, making breakfast.

For years, this was how he’d taken care of me. We were childhood sweethearts, our families were close. Our love story wasn't a whirlwind romance, but it had been steady, comfortable, and deep. Or so I had believed. I had no idea when he and Robin had started. Was it when I introduced them at my eighteenth birthday party? Or had it been even earlier?

The only thing I knew for sure was that they had both conspired to keep me in the dark.

As if sensing my gaze, Liam spoke without turning around. "You have everything, Nina. Robin's had such a hard life. She always gives way to you. Why do you have to make things so difficult for her?"

I froze, a glass of water halfway to my lips. The accusation in his voice was so heavy, painting me as some kind of villain who couldn't stand to see anyone else happy.

I said nothing. I just went to our bedroom and started quietly packing a bag. This house was paid for by both our parents; it would be split down the middle. My jewelry, the wedding gifts, I was taking all of it. And I had no intention of returning the money his family had contributed. I'd consider it compensation for his infidelity.

As I mentally calculated my assets, Liam placed a plate of food in front of me.

He started making coffee, chattering on as if nothing was wrong. "Nina, we're not kids anymore. We were planning on trying for a baby this year. You need to be more mature."

At the mention of a baby, my eyes dropped to my stomach. I opened my mouth to tell him, but the doorbell rang.

Liam and I exchanged a look. He paused, then said slowly, "Did you forget? It's your birthday. Robin made a cake to celebrate."

He hurried to the door and opened it. Robin stood there, a sweet smile on her face. Her arm was scraped from yesterday's "accident," but she was clearly fine.

Her eyes found me, and her voice was as soft as ever. "Happy birthday, Nina."

I didn't understand how she could be so shameless, showing up here to torment me when she knew full well how I felt. But it was my birthday. Why should I have to accommodate her? It wasn't fair.

"I'm not happy," I said, my voice flat and cold, "when you're here."

Instantly, Robin's eyes welled with tears. She looked down at her feet, the very picture of wounded innocence.

Liam whirled on me, his voice sharp. "That's enough. Stop making a scene."

For the past two years, whenever Robin was involved, that seemed to be his favorite phrase: Stop making a scene.

I bit down hard on the tip of my tongue and let out a small, humorless laugh. It all felt so pointless. I turned and sat back down at the table. As Robin passed me, she shot me a tiny, triumphant smirk. It was fleeting, but it was there, mocking my powerlessness.

Liam gave me a warning look, but when he cut the cake, he made a point of giving me the largest slice, just like he used to do when I was mad at him as a kid, trying to win me over with treats.

I mechanically took a few bites before an intense itch started to crawl across my skin. My fork clattered onto the plate with a sharp crack.

I looked straight at Robin. "Did you put chestnut flour in this?"

Panic flickered in her eyes, the clumsy performance of a bad actress. "What's wrong?"

I'm deathly allergic to chestnuts. Robin knew that.

Suddenly, all the little details I'd dismissed over the years flooded my mind. The dress strap that mysteriously broke at a party. The final exam paper she'd "accidentally" spilled ink on. The time she'd burned a chunk of my hair while "helping" me curl it. Every single incident had been a public humiliation. How could someone so meticulous be so clumsy at the most crucial moments?

There was only one explanation. She wanted me to suffer.

My mind flashed to the baby. A roar filled my ears. I pointed a shaking finger at the door. "Get out of my house."

Liam scraped his chair back from the table and stood up, his face a thunderous mask as he moved to stand in front of Robin. "This is my house too. You don't have the right to kick anyone out!"

My throat was starting to close up. My heart began to pound erratically in my chest. But Liam was still yelling, his words a meaningless drone. He saw the tears glistening in Robin's eyes, but he couldn't see me, right in front of him, starting to suffocate.

I stumbled toward the medicine cabinet, desperately searching for my EpiPen. Liam grabbed my arm, yanking me back. The cabinet door flew open, and bottles of pills scattered across the floor.

He held me fast, his eyes burning with condemnation. "Nina, apologize to her right now! You have gone too far!"

My fingers scrabbled uselessly on the floor, trying to reach the life-saving injection. My face was turning a dusky red.

Through his look of growing alarm, I summoned every last bit of strength I had and slapped him hard across the face.

My voice was a strangled rasp. "I'm pregnant. And your little friend just tried to kill me."