An Ode to Love or Fine Wine

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I came home from a two-week business trip and found another woman's press-on nails in our bed.

My husband explained them away: my mother-in-law had knocked a set loose while she was doing the housework.

When I told my best friend about it, she was so furious she stomped around the room and smashed the prized clay teapot my husband treasured most.

"Althea Pruitt, if you ask me, your husband is definitely cheating! Five years married and he still won't even try for a baby with you? He's in love with someone else, mark my words. He's probably already gotten her pregnant!"

I hung the bead-art figure I'd spent seven hours making the night before on her bag, and smiled as I calmed her down.

"Don't read too much into it. My mother-in-law really has been wearing those nails lately. I even saw them on her yesterday."

My best friend and my husband had rubbed each other the wrong way from the very first time they met, five years ago.

They bickered every single day, both looking ready to tear each other apart.

But when I took leave early to come home on my birthday, I found the front door left ajar.

My husband and my best friend were wrapped in each other's arms, kissing, lost to everything around them.

Beside them stood a stroller, and inside it lay an infant, fast asleep.

The birthday cake slipped from my hands and hit the floor, cream splattering everywhere.

Nothing is more devastating than a heart that has died. So this was what it felt like.

At the sound, the two of them turned their heads, and both froze.

It took Dean Vance a long moment to gather himself. Then he smiled and walked toward me.

"Why are you home so suddenly? It's pouring outside. You should have told me. I could have come to pick you up."

His gaze followed the line of my arm down to the cake broken on the floor.

He hurried to fetch a broom and started sweeping it up.

Then he reached out and gently patted my head, just like always.

"It's your birthday today. I bought you an ice-cream cake ages ago. It's in the fridge, strawberry, your favorite flavor."

"Tonight I've invited all our relatives and friends over. We're going to celebrate your birthday together."

Sunlight spilled into the room.

Colorful balloons covered the walls.

My photo was projected across the TV, HAPPY BIRTHDAY written over it.

On the coffee table sat an exquisite diamond necklace and a huge bouquet of roses.

If I hadn't just seen Dean tangled up with another woman with my own eyes,

I really would have believed he loved me.

Seeing that I said nothing, Dean smiled and laid a hand on my shoulder again.

He steered me over to the couch and sat me down.

"Don't just stand there in a daze. You haven't had lunch yet, have you?"

"I'll go to the kitchen and make you a bowl of your favorite noodle soup. No scallions, easy on the salt. I know how you like it."

I opened my mouth, but something was lodged in my throat.

After Dean turned and went into the kitchen, I stared at Imogen Harding in disbelief.

"You're my best friend. Why would you do this?"

"Why not?" Imogen laughed, laughed until tears came to her eyes.

"It's precisely because we're best friends. Didn't you always say you'd share every good thing with me?"

"Well, now I think your husband is pretty great. So I'm sharing your husband. What's the problem with that?"

I clenched my fists.

"Your parents died young. If mine hadn't paid your way through college, your uncle would have married you off to that old bachelor a long time ago and pocketed the twenty-thousand bride price."

"Doing this, can you look my parents in the eye? Can you look me in the eye?"

I grabbed her by the arm. "Get out of here right now! When my parents get here, you can explain yourself to them!"

But to my surprise, Imogen only gave a cold little snort.

"God, you're exhausting, Althea. Do you honestly still not get it?"

"I carried on a five-year affair with Dean right under your nose, and gave birth to a daughter without a hitch. All of it thanks to your parents covering for us."

"Otherwise, how do you think your mother ended up seeing me through my confinement, fussing over me until I put on ten pounds?"

She shook the jade bracelet on her wrist.

"This is from your mother, too. She said it was a reward for giving her such an adorable granddaughter, Bailey, so they could hold a grandchild sooner."

I seized her by the collar and dragged her whole body out the door.

I slammed it shut behind her, cutting off her voice.

"No! Get out! Don't you ever show your face in front of me again!"

The baby out in the living room started wailing.

Dean had just come out of the kitchen, smiling, carrying that bowl of noodle soup.

He saw the scene, and the bowl slipped from his hands, broth splattering across the floor.

He froze for a second, then his brow furrowed.

"Althea, if you've got a problem, take it up with me. This has nothing to do with Imogen or the baby."

"Bailey was born with a congenital heart condition. Don't frighten her! Imogen's the only one who can take care of her. Open the door right now and let her in."

"Would you stop making a scene?"

Tears and snot ran down my face without stopping, and every breath dragged in a sour, choking sting.

Then I lifted the baby girl out of the stroller, threw the door open, stepped outside, and locked it fast behind me.

I shoved the baby into Imogen's arms.

She smiled and cooed at the child.

The look she gave me held mockery, and something smug too.

"I really don't see what's worth getting so angry about. We're best friends. Sharing one husband, isn't that perfectly normal?"

"You used to say it yourself. Once we were out in the world making money, you'd buy a place and the two of us would live together. Well, now the dream's come true."

"From now on my daughter can call you Mommy, all right?"

I pressed a hand hard against my chest, barely able to breathe.

"Imogen, how can you even say something this shameless?"

"You stole my husband. You're the other woman! And you say it like you've got every right to."

She let out a scoffing laugh.

"Now you're blaming me? All of this is your own fault!"

She threw our chat history at me.

"See for yourself. Who told you to share every little piece of your life with me, all day, every day?"

"You said your favorite chocolates were the ones from that boutique chocolatier. That you had to use rose-scented milk body wash in the shower, good for the skin."

"That on your days off, you loved hiking Pearl Ridge, that it was healthy, and that you loved the free-range roast chicken from the farmers up on the mountain."

"Everything you loved, you handed me a copy of it. But the truth is, I didn't care about any of that... What I was really interested in was the Dean you kept mentioning between the lines."

"You made him sound so wonderful. Made you hot ginger tea when you had your period, gave you massages. Coaxed you to sleep when it thundered, stayed by your side, kept watch all night without shutting his eyes. Drove across half the city in the middle of the night when you said you wanted a late-night snack, just to bring you the barbecue cookout from your favorite place. And most important of all, you said he would never, ever cheat."

"But I didn't believe that. What man doesn't like a taste on the side?"

So the day after our wedding, Imogen deliberately got him drunk and took him back to her place.

"He wasn't willing at first. But after that, every night, once you were asleep, he never let me go. Very skilled, too. I was quite satisfied. Sister, you really did eat well."

"If you don't believe me, just look at his phone and you'll know."

My chest felt like an invisible hand was clamped tight around it.

I had just raised my hand to slap her when a brute force shoved me aside.

I fell to the floor, my knee scraped open and bleeding.

Dean was holding Imogen tight, his face full of alarm.

"Imogen, are you okay?"

He turned his head toward me, and before he could get angry, he saw the wound on my knee.

"Althea, how could you be so careless? I'll get the first-aid kit, wait here a second."

He came back with iodine and gauze, meaning to bandage me up.

I wrenched my hand away from him.

And while he wasn't watching, I pulled the phone out of his pocket.

He lunged for it, and I raised the fruit knife.

"Don't come any closer. Or I won't hold back."

I tapped his phone open.

The passcode was our wedding anniversary.

Two chats were pinned at the top.

One was Imogen Harding, saved under "My Darling Wife."

The other was a group chat called "The Real Family."

Dean's parents were in it. My parents were in it. Imogen was in it.

Everyone but me.

Last month's messages.

Dean had posted a photo to the group.

It was a high-end postpartum care center.

In it, Imogen sat up in bed holding a newborn, smiling like the happiest woman alive.

Dean had his arm tight around her.

My parents and his parents stood clustered around them.

One big family portrait.

Warm and cozy, every one of them.

Those smiles were like needle points.

They drove into me one after another, and the dense, prickling pain spread through my whole body.

Dean reached for the phone again. "Althea, let me explain."

"Shut up." I kept scrolling.

My father was the first to reply under the photo.

"Bailey looks just like her mother, just as pretty. She'll grow up to be a real beauty. Grandpa doesn't have much to give you, so I sent you a two-hundred-thousand cash gift."

"Whatever you do, don't tell Althea about this. That girl's so stubborn, no telling how she'd bully our Imogen if she found out."

A year ago my father had a stroke and was hospitalized.

The whole time, I was the one caring for him.

Every day I emptied his bedpan and wiped him down, fed him his meals and his medicine.

The bills were steep, and his savings weren't enough.

I paid out of my own pocket, spent a lot of money on his treatment.

But the first thing he did once he recovered was send Imogen two hundred thousand.

My mother chimed in too:

"Exactly. If she found out she'd only make trouble. Imogen, you just focus on being good to Dean. We'll cover everything else for the two of you."

Imogen answered with a smiley face. "Thank you, Uncle and Auntie."

I make ten thousand a month.

Eight thousand of it went to my mother.

I was always bringing home supplements and health foods for her too.

I wouldn't even spring for a new outfit for myself at the holidays.

But now she was covering for the mistress and lying to me, her own daughter.

My mother-in-law jumped in to defend Imogen.

"Honestly, I've always thought Imogen would make the better daughter-in-law. If Dean weren't still hung up on Althea, I'd have said yes long ago."

"Dean's just too soft-hearted. You two already have a child, and he still can't bring himself to let go."

It came back to me all at once.

The day I married into the Vance family, at the wedding, my mother-in-law slipped a gold bracelet onto my wrist and told me, so earnestly,

"Now that you've married into the Vance family, I'll treat you like my own daughter."

After the wedding she waited on me herself, did the housework, the laundry, the cooking, never let anything slide, never let me lift a finger.

In the end, she didn't like me at all.

My father-in-law posted the deed to the unit in the building across from ours.

"Imogen, this is a gift from me, for you and the baby. Living in the same complex, it'll be easier for Dean to look after you both."

My father-in-law had run up gambling debts on a trip abroad.

When the creditors chased him back home to collect and one of them swung a knife at him, I took the blade for him. Otherwise he'd already be dead.

The scar on my back is still plain to see.

I laughed.

And laughing, I started to cry.

Dean panicked.

"Althea, don't scare me. You're my wife. You're the only one I've ever loved. You have to believe me."

"Imogen and the baby were just an accident. If you don't want them here, I'll make them leave, all right?"

I looked up.

"Dean, do you even hear yourself right now?"

"She's been my best friend since we were kids. You're the man I thought I'd love my whole life. The two of you went behind my back, got together, had a child, and you're telling me it was an accident?"

Before I could keep going, Imogen said the baby girl in her arms suddenly let out a shriek and started wailing.

Imogen's face flushed red with panic.

"Dean, come look, quick. What's wrong with her?"

She stared at me in disbelief, her eyes going red.

"Althea, whatever grudge you've got, take it out on me. What kind of person raises a hand to a baby?"

"She has a congenital heart condition. Are you trying to kill her?"

She pulled out her phone and started dialing. "I have to call an ambulance fast, or Althea's going to be the death of my daughter!"

The corridor outside the emergency room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop, nothing but my own muffled crying.

Dean came out of the doctor's office with a dark face and slapped me across the cheek.

I touched the hot, swelling side of my face and looked at him, stunned.

"Althea, of all the things you could have done, you should never have laid a hand on that child. Go apologize to Imogen right now. Apologize, and we'll all forgive you. We can go on living just like before."

I couldn't believe it.

"You cheated, and now you want me to apologize to Imogen? I never hurt the child. I just handed her back to Imogen!"

My in-laws arrived practically in tears.

The second she saw me, my mother-in-law's eyes went wide.

"Althea, you shameless little slut. You're a hen that can't lay an egg, and the moment Imogen has a daughter, you're eaten up with jealousy, aren't you?"

"If anything happens to my granddaughter, I'll take my old life and settle it with you!"

My father-in-law stood beside her, shaking his head, scolding me like I was hopeless.

"If you ask me, you're narrow-minded. You take everything too much to heart."

"So what if a man has a few women? Back in the old days men married several wives and everything was fine, wasn't it?"

"I even went and bought Imogen a house on purpose, just so you wouldn't have to live under the same roof with them and feel put out. That's how much I care about your feelings, and you still aren't satisfied?"

My parents came late.

But the moment my mother saw me, she raised her fists and rained little blows down on my back.

"You wretched girl, get in there and apologize to Imogen. If it weren't for you, nothing would have happened to that child!"

"We heard all about it on the way here. You did something to the baby. What exactly did you do?"

My father grit his teeth and blamed me too. "The child is innocent. No matter how angry you are, you can't do something like this."

Everyone crowded in front of me, accusing me.

No one spoke up for me.

They all believed I had raised a hand to Imogen's child.

That I wanted her daughter dead.

But I hadn't. I really hadn't.

All at once, I felt utterly done with it.

Too worn out to get out a single word.

After five seconds of silence, I finally spoke, my voice hoarse:

"Dean, let's get divorced."

When they heard me say it, everyone there froze.

It was as though it had never crossed their minds.

That I, always so easygoing, would be the one to ask for a divorce.

Because I used to be a pushover, taking whatever was handed to me.

No matter what they said, no matter what they asked of me, I always agreed.

Dean's mouth twitched.

"Althea, you're joking, right? I slept with Imogen a few times, we had a kid. Is that really worth a divorce?"

Even now he believed I would forgive every wrong he'd done, no conditions attached.

That none of this was worth being angry over, as far as I was concerned.

Even when I caught him in bed, he'd stayed perfectly calm.

Because he was certain I would never leave him.

"Worth it? Being with you just makes me sick."

"Since every one of you takes Imogen's side, then from now on I'm cutting all of you off. Don't contact me again."

Hearing that, Dean only sneered, his eyes dark and unreadable.

"Althea, I love you. I will never let you go."

"If you dare leave me, I'll go online and expose you by name as the mistress who wrecked what Imogen and I had, and I'll ruin you!"

"Aren't you about to sit your civil-service exams? If your eligibility gets pulled, your whole life is finished!"

I don't know how I made it home.

I only knew there was something like a huge stone pressing on my chest.

A fine, tightening suffocation had my throat in a stranglehold.

I moved through it in a daze.

Every time I thought of the five years I'd been intimate with Dean, I felt filthy, sick to my stomach.

I walked into the bathroom and ran a tub of hot water.

I soaked in it and scrubbed my body over and over with a brush, until the skin was raw and bleeding.

The steam blurred my vision.

I felt so tired. So tired.

I closed my eyes and, without knowing it, drifted off to sleep.

My brother, who'd flown home today to celebrate my birthday, called me and I didn't pick up.

He had the code to my place, and when he came in he found the living room already flooded with water from the bathroom.

By the time he walked into the bathroom, he saw me sunk in the tub, no longer breathing.

He rushed me to the hospital and called Dean.

"Dean, it's bad! Something's happened to Althea!"