He Broke Me the Same Way Twice

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I hid the pregnancy test -- two clear lines -- inside a cake, planning to surprise Ethan on his birthday.

Then he suddenly said, I slept with Natalie.

He pointed at the hot soup I'd just made, his smile cruel: Last week she fed me from this same bowl. Her tongue was so skilled, I couldn't hold back. So I fucked her.

Betrayed. Again.

I stood there frozen, too numb with pain to make a sound.

Ethan just smiled brighter: "I finally understand Lucas now. Natalie really does know how to please a man better than you."

Lucas was my ex-boyfriend. Natalie was my former stepsister.

Five years ago, those two drove me to attempt suicide with photos of them in bed together.

When I'd lost all hope, Ethan appeared and saved me.

But now, he'd betrayed me for the same person.

I'd been secretly making prenatal supplements for him, lying that it was just health tonic.

He never called me out on it. I thought he didn't know.

After a long silence, I finally found my voice, trembling: "Why?"

Why betray me and still let me make medicine for him every day?

Ethan looked at me and suddenly laughed loudly: "Claire, you lost."

He pulled out his phone and put it on speaker.

Natalie's voice poured out, sickeningly sweet: "Ethan, did it work?"

"It worked. You guessed right -- she only asked why."

Ethan leaned back on the sofa, the exact same posture Lucas used five years ago.

"Natalie and I made a bet about how you'd react. She bet you'd slap me. I bet you'd just cry."

He paused, smug and vicious: "I won."

Natalie laughed on the other end: "Five years later, and she still just asks 'why' when someone fucks her husband."

In a daze, I was back five years ago.

That year I came home early to surprise Lucas on his birthday.

I pushed open the door to find Natalie straddling Lucas. They didn't even bother to cover up.

Seeing me, Natalie panicked for just a moment.

Lucas leaned against the headboard and lit a cigarette: "Claire's home early. Your sister Natalie just turned eighteen, so I'm breaking her in for you."

I grabbed the vase from the table to throw it, but my wrist went limp like the bones had been pulled out. The vase slipped and shattered at my feet.

I only asked why.

Natalie shoved her phone in my face.

It was full of photos of her and Lucas -- the earliest one dated three months before Lucas and I got together.

"Claire, you're the one who stole someone else's boyfriend."

That night, Natalie sent the photos to all my classmates.

My phone rang all night with messages full of abuse.

I turned it off and stood on the rooftop until dawn.

The next day, Ethan grabbed my hand.

The day after that, he was drenched in sweat, like he'd run a long way.

He said, don't die for people who aren't worth it. Come with me.

So I went with him.

But five years later, today, the person who pulled me down from that rooftop had personally pushed me back up there.

"Alright Natalie, stop provoking her. See you tonight." Ethan hung up.

He grabbed his car keys and headed for the door.

As he passed the coffee table, his steps slowed for half a beat.

But only half a beat.

"I'm picking up Natalie. Move your stuff to the guest room. You don't have a place here anymore."

The door closed.

In the living room, the cake read "Happy 30th Birthday" in frosting I'd spent two hours piping.

Next to it, a blue gift box held the photo of the pregnancy test.

Two lines.

I'd planned to wait until after he blew out the candles to tell him we were having a baby.

That baby was four weeks old.

After Ethan left, I stared at the cake for a long time.

Then I started packing.

ID card, prenatal checkup report, my mother's photo.

I shoved them into my bag, my hands shaking so badly it took three tries to zip it closed.

Ethan came back faster than I expected.

He looked at the bag in my hand and sneered: "Running away? Where would you even go?"

"Divorce." I used all my strength to say that word.

He didn't answer, just walked over and pulled the bag from my hands. When he found the prenatal report, his hand paused for a moment.

Very brief, so brief it seemed like I'd imagined it.

Then he threw the bag on the floor.

"Divorce?" He looked down at me like he'd heard a joke.

"Claire, if you'd chosen me first, I probably would have treasured you for life."

His tone was flat, like he was talking about someone else.

"But who did you choose? You chose Lucas."

"When you were with him, you could kneel in the rain all night. You could fight and make up laughing the next day."

"What about with me?"

"You speak quietly, walk around me carefully, don't even dare make prenatal supplements in front of me."

"Claire, who are you living with? You're living with a stranger."

"You think that's love?"

Ethan lowered his head, almost touching my face: "That's charity."

"Was saving me charity too?" I raised my head.

"Five years ago you grabbed me on that rooftop and said you'd be good to me forever. Was that pity too?"

His expression flickered, then hardened.

"Yes. That was pity."

He stepped back, his eyes full of gloom.

"The pot you used to make prenatal supplements -- it's the same one you used to make soup for Lucas. You forgot, didn't you? Natalie remembers."

That was the only thing my mother left behind.

When I moved, I only brought that pot.

I used it for Lucas because it was all I had. I used it for Ethan for the same reason.

"It's not the same... that was my mom's..."

"Enough." Ethan pulled open the front door.

Outside, a storm was starting.

He grabbed my arm and pushed me out. As I passed the shoe cabinet, my shin hit the corner and I bent over in pain.

"Ethan, I'm pregnant."

The moment those words left my mouth, his hand did pause for a moment.

One second.

Then the door closed behind me.

I pounded on the door a few times.

No one answered.

I heard the lock turn from inside.

My phone buzzed. All my bank accounts were frozen.

Outside the door was the yard.

Rain pounded against my body, soaking through my pajamas until they stuck to my skin.

I don't know how long it was before a cramping pain shot through my lower abdomen.

A dark stain spread across my pajama pants.

I couldn't lose this baby.

I bent over, supporting myself against the wall, moving step by step back toward the door.

The spare key under the flowerpot should still be there.

When I pushed open the door, the entryway light was on.

From the yard to the door was only twenty steps. It took me ten minutes.

With every step, the blood between my legs increased.

As I crouched down to reach for the spare key, my vision went dark.

A pair of red-soled high heels appeared on the ground, pointed toward the door.

In the living room, Natalie was wearing my pajamas, sitting cross-legged next to Ethan.

On the coffee table sat half a glass of red wine and a pregnancy test broken in two.

The two lines were still clearly visible.

The cake I'd made was half-eaten, the fork still stuck in it.

The candles were broken, thrown in the ashtray.

The family photo on the cabinet was face down, the frame turned over.

Natalie saw me come in and laughed behind her hand: "Claire's back? I thought you'd left. Ethan said you're really good at running away."

I ignored her, my gaze fixed on the broken pregnancy test.

I'd hidden that in a secret compartment in the closet.

Natalie followed my line of sight and tilted her head: "Oh that? I accidentally broke it when I was changing clothes."

She turned to Ethan, eyes wide: "Ethan, Claire's not really pregnant, is she?"

Ethan leaned back on the sofa, not looking at me.

Frosting from the cake was smeared at the corner of his mouth.

"I told you not to touch her things." His tone didn't sound protective, more annoyed.

"It doesn't matter if she is." Natalie smiled and rubbed her flat stomach.

"The only children in this house will be mine and Ethan's anyway."

She stood up and walked toward me, stopping half a step away, looking down at my legs.

The dark stain spreading across my pants had been scattered by the rain, but the traces were clear.

"Claire, you're bleeding." Her voice was soft.

I bent over and retched violently.

Nothing came out except acid and bitterness -- the taste of prenatal medicine.

Natalie stepped back, her face wrinkled with disgust.

There was a sound from the sofa. Ethan stood up and took half a step toward me.

Then stopped.

Natalie grabbed his arm: "Ethan, she's so filthy."

Ethan looked down at me, his lips moved, but no sound came out.

I knelt on the floor and wiped my mouth.

As I stood up, he spoke.

"You think we're disgusting?" His voice was cold. "Then tonight you can listen carefully to who's really disgusting."

He pulled Natalie toward the stairs.

As they passed, Natalie stepped on the broken pregnancy test.

As she went upstairs, she laughed: "Ethan, let's sleep in her bed tonight, okay?"

Ethan didn't refuse.

The master bedroom door closed.

I knelt in the living room, vomit in front of me, rain and blood on my body, the pregnancy test crushed to pieces before me.

The first laugh came from upstairs.

Then footsteps.

Ethan came back downstairs and grabbed me by the collar, hauling me up.

"Since you like kneeling so much, come kneel and listen upstairs."

As Ethan dragged me upstairs, my knees knocked against every step with a sound.

Passing the master bedroom, his steps paused.

Then he kicked open the storage room door next to it and shoved me inside.

"Ethan --"

I reached out to stop him.

The door closed. The lock turned.

The storage room was small, filled with a few dusty cardboard boxes and a folding chair.

No light. The only source was a half-open window in the corner, moonlight streaming in, illuminating floating dust.

Through the wall, Natalie's voice came first: "Ethan, is she right next door?"

Ethan's voice came through muffled: "Don't worry about her."

Natalie laughed: "Good. Let her listen carefully to who really knows how to please you."

I hit the wall a few times.

Next door went quiet for a second or two.

Then Natalie laughed: "Ethan, Claire's keeping time for us."

I covered my ears.

But the sounds still leaked through.

Laughter, gasping, the dull sound of the bed frame being pressed.

Ethan's hands that once put fever patches on me were now touching someone else through the wall.

He who once told me "don't die for people who aren't worth it" was now calling another woman's name.

The cramping in my lower abdomen grew stronger with each wave.

I curled up in the corner, hand pressed to my stomach, the sticky area under my clothes still spreading.

I searched my pockets and only found a crumpled prenatal report.

Ethan had pulled it from my bag and thrown it on the ground. I'd picked it up again when I left.

I couldn't make out the words in the darkness.

But that line -- "intrauterine early pregnancy, approximately four weeks" -- I'd already memorized.

Four weeks.

That's when the heart just starts to beat.

Next door went quiet for a while.

Then Natalie's voice came lazily, like she was deliberately speaking for me to hear:

"Ethan, after this is over, should I have your baby?"

"Mm."

"Let's clean out that storage room next door for a nursery."

"Okay."

"What about Claire?"

"She can stay if she wants. If she can't take it, she can leave on her own."

Natalie laughed: "You're so good to me, Ethan."

Next door went silent again.

I released my hand. My fingertips were covered in sweat.

My lower abdomen didn't hurt as much anymore.

Looking down at the dark stain on my pants, I couldn't tell if it was red or black in the moonlight, but the area had grown larger than before.

The baby might already be gone.

I turned my head toward the window.

It was raining outside, hitting the windowsill, a few drops splashing in and landing on the back of my hand.

Cold.

Just as cold as standing on that rooftop five years ago.

That time Ethan had grabbed my hand.

I looked at the tightly closed door.

No footsteps behind it.

No one was coming.

I braced myself against the wall and stood up, something warm trickling down my knee.

Three floors outside the window. Not very high.

But enough.

I climbed onto the windowsill. Rain hit my face.

Next door came Natalie's blurred sleep talk, Ethan's even breathing coming through the wall.

They were both asleep.

I could sleep forever too...