Chapter 2

2

The next morning, Ethan was up early, humming as he picked out clothes, still grinning from ear to ear while on the phone.

"Don't worry, Zach, I'll wear my best outfit. You'll be so proud! And Mom? Is she ready? I'll be there soon!"

Watching him, I felt like they were the family, and I was the outsider intruding.

He hung up, saw me sitting up, and came over to appease me. "Anna, you're so great. Take my card, go treat yourself, okay?"

He took a card from his wallet and offered it, then placed it on the nightstand when I didn't take it. He leaned in to kiss my cheek, but his phone rang.

"Ashley? You guys all set? Okay, great, be right there. Five minutes."

He was already halfway out the door as he spoke.

I didn't touch his card. I didn't feel like going out alone. I got an egg and some spinach from the fridge and made myself a birthday breakfast.

As soon as I sat down with my food, my phone buzzed with messages from Ashley.

Picture after picture, followed by a message:

"Hey Anna, Ethan told me it's your anniversary. So sorry about that, I didn't realize he'd still come even though it's your special day. I'm sending you some pics so you can share in the fun…"

I clicked through dozens of photos. Ethan beaming, holding Zach. Ethan and Zach competing in the field day events. In almost every picture, Ethan was looking at Zach with pure adoration.

There were a few photos of Ashley, too. Ethan holding Zach, Ashley's arm linked through his, her head resting on his shoulder. All three of them with smiles plastered on their faces.

If this wasn't my husband, I would've thought, "What a beautiful family. So heartwarming."

But it was. And the sight of it made my stomach churn. I ran to the bathroom and threw up everything I'd just eaten.

It was sickening.

I picked up the anniversary gift I'd gotten for Ethan. I looked at it for a long moment, then tossed it in the living room trash can. The trash bag had just been changed and the can was right by the door, impossible to miss. I wasn't going to give it to him directly, but I hoped he'd notice, that he'd be observant enough to pick up on my silent protest.

Eleven o'clock. Still no Ethan. He called.

"Anna, something came up at work, I'll be late tonight. Don't wait up." He paused, then added unconvincingly, "Yeah, work stuff."

He didn't come home at all that night. I'd hoped he might, that he'd see the gift in the trash. I fell asleep on the couch, waiting.

At six a.m., a message notification woke me. It was Ethan.

"Things got crazy at work last night. Didn't want to wake you, so I crashed at the office."

"I'm on my way home now. I'll bring you breakfast. What are you craving? How about that congee from that place uptown, the one you love?"

That place was always packed, people lined up around the block. It was a long drive, and hard to get. I loved it, but the last time I'd had it was when Ethan had been in that neighborhood for work and brought some home.

The memory softened me. I texted back, "Okay."

Less than half an hour later, Ethan arrived, carrying a thermos.

I rushed to the door, a smile on my face. "That was fast! There's usually a huge line."

Ethan's face flushed. He stammered, "The line was insane. I… I got seafood congee from the place next door. Try it, it's pretty good. I had some on the way, so there's not much left."

I opened the thermos. Inside was a lukewarm, watery mess with a few bits of seafood floating around.

I closed the lid and looked at him calmly. "Ethan, I'm allergic to seafood."

Panic flashed across his face. "There's barely any seafood in it. You'll be fine."

"Zach ate most of it… I mean, I asked them to go easy on the seafood. I remembered you were allergic."

"And anyway, a little seafood won't hurt. You grew up in foster care, you can't be that sensitive."

I just stared at him silently.

He'd probably forgotten. When we first started dating, he took me out for seafood. He stood there, hands on his hips, grinning, proudly presenting me with the menu.

"Anna, you've never had seafood before! I just got paid, order whatever you want, it's on me!"

We ate a lot of seafood that night. And that's the night I discovered I was allergic.

Ethan had cried and held my hand in the ambulance. When I woke up in the hospital, he swore, "Anna, I'll never forget. You're allergic to seafood."

And now he was telling me a little seafood wouldn't hurt, and implying that my difficult childhood meant I shouldn't be so "sensitive."

I walked back to the bedroom without a word.

I checked my phone. Ashley had posted a picture an hour ago.

In the photo, a tall, handsome man was wearing a cute cartoon apron.

Ethan.

He was hunched over a cutting board, meticulously preparing seafood.

Ashley's caption: "Seafood congee is the best."

I didn't know if he hadn't wanted to wait in line for the congee I liked, or if he just didn't want to waste the leftover seafood congee.

Either way, the result was the same. He brought me home their leftovers.