Even Love Can Be Turned Into a Scheme

At the Valentine's Day party, we came to the part we did every year with my fiancé Kerry Dotson — the two of us trading mystery boxes. I opened the one he'd had made just for me, so happy I could barely hold still. There was no diamond ring inside. Only a six-week ultrasound. The whole room erupted at once into cheering and applause. Kerry's first love, Kathy Gomez, stood up, her face flushed, and touched her belly with a shy little gesture. Our mutual friends called out one after another. "Congrats, Kerry! The little family of three, finally all together!" "Your wife waited five years for you. She's earned it at last." I stood frozen with that ultrasound pinched between my fingers, like some clown who'd wandered into the wrong party. My fiancé turned to look at me, his tone carrying something like charity. "You've held that spot for five years. She's pregnant now. Don't you think it's time you read the room and stepped aside?" "Nobody told you beforehand because we were afraid you'd throw a fit and ruin the mood on such a happy day." I looked at this crowd of good friends I'd cooked for and hosted with my own hands for three years, and it all felt absurd beyond words. I slipped the mystery box I'd prepared for him back into my bag. He didn't know. The box in there held two little lines too. 1 "What are you spacing out for? This is wonderful news." Our mutual friend Thomas Whitney, grinning, pressed a glass of wine into my hand. Wave after wave of egging-on rolled through the private room. I looked down at the stemmed glass forced into my grip, the red liquid sloshing against the glass. Kerry sat dead center on the sofa, Kathy leaning against his shoulder, one hand resting protectively over her flat stomach. "All right, stop pushing her." Kerry's voice was mild, and it came down from above. "It's normal she can't take it in all at once. She did hold the position for five years, after all." He raised his eyes to me. There was no guilt in them. He was simply informing me of a small matter. Kathy tugged at his sleeve, her voice soft and frail. "Kerry, don't talk about Sophia Harding that way. It's my fault. I shouldn't have gotten pregnant with your child at a time like this." Her eyes rimmed red, and she looked at me pitifully. "Sophia, please don't be angry with Kerry. If you feel wronged, I... I can get rid of the baby." "Don't be ridiculous." Kerry took her hand, his brow drawing together. "This is my own flesh and blood. Who would dare touch it?" He turned to me, his tone edged with warning. "Sophia, Kathy's fragile. She can't handle being upset. You've always been sensible. Don't make a scene today." The friends around us chimed in on cue. "That's right, Sophia. She's even carrying his child now. You can't very well tear two lovebirds apart, can you?" "You've enjoyed plenty of good things with Kerry these five years. Stepping down to make way for her is only right." I looked at these people. For three years, every gathering they had was at my place. I went to the market for the seafood myself, worked in the kitchen all day, all to put a good spread on the table for them. And now they stood on Kathy's side without a shred of shame. I clenched the little box inside my bag so hard my nails nearly snapped. Inside it was the pregnancy test I'd taken just that morning. Two lines too. I didn't cry, and I didn't scream. I lifted the glass, and tilted my wrist just slightly. A splash. The red wine spilled at Kerry's and Kathy's feet. The glass rolled twice across the carpet and stopped at the edge of the coffee table. The room went silent in an instant. Kathy shrieked and shrank into Kerry's arms. Kerry shot to his feet, his face dark. "Sophia, have you lost your mind?" "The toast is done." My voice was quiet, calm in a way that surprised even me. "May the two of you have a long and happy life together." I turned, pulled open the door of the private room, and walked out without looking back. Only when the cold air in the hallway hit my face did I realize I was soaked in a cold sweat. Hurried footsteps came up behind me. Kerry had chased after me. He grabbed my wrist. "Are you done making a scene?" He lowered his voice, the usual irritation running through it. "I know you're upset, but pulling a face in front of that many people just now — it looked terrible." I wrenched my hand free and stepped back. "Terrible? You hand me someone else's ultrasound in front of everyone, and that's not terrible?" Kerry sighed and reached out to touch my hair. I turned my head aside and dodged it. His hand froze in midair, then drew back with a flicker of annoyance. "Kathy waited all these years for me. She's pregnant now. I have to give her a proper standing." He looked at me and softened his tone. "The wedding just has to be postponed for now, but I won't shortchange you." "That river-view penthouse in the eastern suburbs — I'll have it transferred into your name tomorrow." "Be sensible about this. Once Kathy safely delivers the baby, the place as Mrs. Dotson is still yours." I looked at the face in front of me. Just last month we were in that apartment, planning our future. I'd bought eco-friendly paint and painted the nursery walls with my own hands. He'd wrapped his arms around me from behind, chin tucked into the curve of my neck, laughing about the beautiful little daughter we'd have someday. The warmth from back then seemed to still be on my skin, yet now it felt cold. "There's no need." I gripped my bag tight, feeling the mystery box through the fabric. "Kerry, whatever this was between us — it ends here." I turned and walked toward the elevator. "Sophia!" He called my name behind me, certain of himself. "Don't do this out of spite. Keep the apartment for now. Once you've calmed down, we'll talk it through properly." The elevator doors slid slowly shut. Cutting off his line of sight. I leaned against the wall of the elevator and slowly sank down. I unzipped my bag. The mystery box I'd meant to give him lay quietly inside. I touched my flat stomach. He didn't know there was a little life in here too.