On my birthday night, my husband's confession destroyed everything we had built.

"I got someone pregnant," he said.

The words hit me all at once.

"I don't-" My throat closed around the words. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry, Marian," he said, his voice breaking around my name. "When I left last month for the business trip... my colleague took me out to dinner. There were drinks, too many. It just-happened. And yesterday she called to tell me she's pregnant."

I blinked, my vision blurring. "That's why you didn't call last night. Why you stayed late. Why you left so early this morning."

He flinched. " I just... we went to the doctor yesterday to confirm it. The timeline fits. I didn't know how to tell you."

Silence.

The kind that fills every corner of a room and squeezes the air from your lungs.

"You know what today is," I whispered.

He looked confused for a second. Then it hit him. Too late.

He forgot.

A laugh slipped out - small, broken, sharp.

"Marian-"

"Don't." I lifted a hand. "Please don't. You chose this. It's over."

’‘Divorce.''

————————

I woke up with a start.

For a moment, I couldn't tell if I was still dreaming. The air in the room felt heavy, the soft hum of the ceiling fan the only sound breaking the silence. My heart beat faster than it should have - though I couldn't remember why. Whatever dream had startled me slipped away like fog in sunlight, leaving behind only that strange, lingering unease.

I reached across the bed, searching for Daniel's warmth. My hand met cool sheets. The space beside me was empty - the pillow smooth, untouched.

"Daniel?" I murmured, my voice hoarse from sleep.

No answer.

Blinking against the light filtering through the curtains, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. My phone sat on the nightstand, face down. When I picked it up, the screen lit up with a single unread message.

Daniel: "Had to leave early, love. Need to finalize this project. I'll see you later, ok? Love you."

I stared at the message, reading it twice, as if the words might shift into something else.

The clock on the wall read 10:48 a.m.

Late.

I rarely ever slept that long, especially not on a Saturday. Weekends were sacred to me, the one time I allowed myself to silence my alarms and let my body rest. But even then, Daniel usually woke me with coffee and soft peckings, whispering "Happy weekend, sleepyhead" before I could protest.

And today... today of all days, he hadn't.

My birthday.

I sat there for a moment, phone still in hand, confusion and disappointment mixing in the quiet. Daniel never forgot my birthday. Never. He was the kind of man who loved surprises - elaborate plans, handwritten notes, breakfast in bed. One year he even decorated the living room with hundreds of fairy lights just to "outshine the stars" for me.

So why did it feel different this time?

"Maybe he's planning something," I whispered to myself, forcing a small smile. That had to be it. Daniel could be unpredictable when it came to surprises. He probably wanted to make me think he'd forgotten - just to see the look on my face later.

Before I could dwell on it further, my phone chimed again.

Katherine: "HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEST FRIEND!! Are you awake now?? Let's go partayyyyy!!! :tada::nail_care:"

I couldn't help but laugh. Even in text, I could hear her voice - fast, loud, and full of caffeine.

Me: "Yes, I'm awake. I'll see you soon!"

We'd planned the whole day out weeks ago. Spa treatments, shopping, gossip, and later, dinner with Daniel - just the three of us celebrating like old times. It was supposed to be simple, easy, full of laughter.

Still, as I set the phone down and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, that small ache in my chest didn't fade. I didn't even know what time Daniel had come home last night. I must've already been asleep. And now, he'd left without waking me.

It wasn't like him.

Shaking my head to clear the thought, I padded to the bathroom, letting the hot water of the shower chase away the strange feeling lingering in my chest. The steam curled around me, warm and comforting. Today wasn't a day to overthink. Today was supposed to be happy.

.....

The hours slipped by quickly once Katherine arrived.

With her around, it was impossible not to laugh. She had a way of filling every space she entered - bright, animated, always talking with her hands.

We spent the afternoon exactly as planned: a full-body massage, a manicure and pedicure, then a long lunch at our favorite cafe by the boardwalk. The sunlight shimmered across the water outside, and for a moment, everything felt right again. I let myself sink into the ease of it - the chatter, the music, the smell of coffee and sea salt.

It was a good day.

By the time we left the spa, my nails gleamed a pale blush pink, my muscles loose and relaxed. I felt refreshed - renewed, even. Ready to celebrate properly that night.

"Okay, confession time," Katherine said as we strolled back to her car. "I haven't heard your phone ping once since this morning. Has Daniel finally stopped spamming you, or is it the end of the world?"

I laughed softly. "He's working on a big project. Had to leave early."

"On your birthday?" She said, incredulous. "That man needs to learn priorities."

"He'll make it up to me," I said, though even as the words left my mouth, a faint unease rippled through me again. It was the same feeling I'd had when I woke up - subtle, but constant. Like a whisper in the back of my mind that wouldn't quiet down.

"Well," Katherine said, eyeing me. "He better still be coming tonight. I bought new heels just for this dinner."

I smiled, opening my phone to check for messages. Still nothing new. "He didn't say otherwise."

As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my hand - Daniel's name flashing on the screen.

"Speak of the devil," I said, smiling as I swiped to answer. "Hi, love! Didn't hear from you the whole day. Everything okay?"

There was a pause. A faint static hum on the other end. Then his voice came - quiet, steady, but with an edge I couldn't quite place.

"Love, can you come home? I need to speak with you." Something in his tone made my stomach tighten.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, trying to keep my voice light.

"Yeah," he said quickly. "I just... need to talk to you. It's important."

My pulse quickened. "Okay. Let me just say goodbye to Katherine, and I'll be there soon."

"Okay," he said. "I'll see you soon, love."

The line clicked, leaving only the faint echo of his voice in my ear.

Katherine's brow furrowed. "What happened?"

"I don't know," I said honestly, slipping the phone into my bag. "He just asked me to come home. Said it was important."

Her teasing expression softened into concern. "Want me to come with you?"

I shook my head with a small smile. "No, it's fine. Probably work stuff. Rain check on dinner?"

"Of course," she said, squeezing my hand. "But call me later, okay? And if he forgot your birthday, tell him I'm officially revoking his 'Best Husband' title."

I laughed, but it came out a little thin. "Deal."

As I walked toward my car, the late afternoon sky had shifted - clouds gathering low and gray, the sun slipping behind them. The first drops of rain began to fall, cool against my skin. By the time I started the engine, the city was bathed in that muted, silvery light that always came before a storm. The windshield wipers brushed rhythmically back and forth as I drove, the roads slick and glistening.

But even as the rain began to pour harder, the sound of Daniel's voice echoed in my head - soft, careful, different.

"I just need to talk to you. It's important."

My hands tightened around the wheel. I couldn't explain why, but with every passing mile, that quiet unease grew stronger.

Something was waiting for me at home.

Something that would change everything.

.....

The rain hadn't stopped by the time I turned into the driveway. It fell in silver ribbons under the streetlight - thin and endless - blurring the edges of the world until the house looked like something out of a dream half-forgotten. The windows glowed softly through the downpour, gold light spilling across the dark, rain-slicked yard. It should have felt safe. Familiar. But instead, it twisted something deep in my chest.

Daniel's car sat where it always did, rainwater pooling beneath the tires, wipers frozen mid-motion. Everything looked the same.

But nothing felt the same.

For a long moment, I just sat there - the hum of the engine low, the wipers dragging back and forth in a tired rhythm. The rain on the windshield sounded like static, like a heartbeat that wasn't mine. My reflection stared back at me - pale, drawn, eyes too bright, lips trembling with words I hadn't found yet.

When I finally cut the engine, the sudden silence was deafening.

The cold hit me first. Then the rain. It soaked through my coat in seconds, cold fingers crawling down my spine. Puddles rippled beneath each step as I crossed the walkway. By the time I reached the porch, water dripped from my hair, tracing the curve of my jaw, the hollow of my throat.

The key turned in the lock. The door gave way.

Warmth met me - but it was the wrong kind. Too still. Too quiet. The air carried Daniel's scent - coffee, cedar, the faint musk of rain - but beneath it was something else. Something sharp. Different. A note that didn't belong.

"Daniel?" My voice came out small. Fragile.

He was there, in the living room, sitting on the edge of the couch. Shoulders hunched. Head bowed. The lamp beside him cast a dull amber glow, making the rain on the window shimmer like falling glass. The television was dark. His phone lay face down on the table beside an untouched mug.

When he looked up, his eyes met mine.

"Hey."

Just one word. Soft. Careful. But it cut through me like glass.

"Hey," I echoed, setting my bag down. My fingers lingered on the strap, anything to delay what was coming. "What's going on? You said you needed to talk."

He nodded slowly, his gaze flicking toward the rain outside before finding me again. His voice was calm - too calm.

"I didn't want to worry you," he said. "I just... didn't want to say this over the phone."

Something cold unfurled in my stomach. "Say what?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I'd seen a thousand times - when he was tired, when he was unsure. But tonight, it looked different. He couldn't meet my eyes.

"I've been trying to figure out how to tell you," he murmured. "I didn't mean for any of this to happen."

"Daniel..." My voice faltered. "What are you talking about?"

He looked at me then. And in that instant, I knew. It was in his eyes - the sorrow, the shame, the quiet devastation.

"I got someone pregnant," he said.

The words didn't hit me all at once. They drifted through the air, slow, deliberate, cruel in their clarity. Then everything inside me split.

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the rain - relentless, pounding against the windows like applause for something tragic.

"I don't-" My throat closed around the words. "I don't understand."

"I'm sorry, Marian," he said, his voice breaking around my name. "When I left last month for the business trip... my colleague took me out to dinner. There were drinks, too many. It just-happened. And yesterday she called to tell me she's pregnant."

Each word landed heavy, like stones dropped in water.

I blinked, my vision blurring. "That's why you didn't call last night. Why you stayed late. Why you left so early this morning."

He flinched. "No. No, love. I didn't see her today. I swear. I just... we went to the doctor yesterday to confirm it. The timeline fits. I didn't know how to tell you."

Silence.

The kind that fills every corner of a room and squeezes the air from your lungs.

"You know what today is," I whispered.

He looked confused for a second. Then it hit him. Too late.

He forgot.

A laugh slipped out - small, broken, sharp. It sounded wrong in the quiet room.

"Marian-"

"Don't." I lifted a hand. "Please don't."

I turned away, my breath trembling, my reflection catching in the dark window - a ghost of someone who still loved a man she no longer recognized. Tears blurred everything into streaks of gold and shadow.

For a moment, neither of us moved. The only light came from the lamp - soft and golden, wrapping the scene in cruel beauty. Outside, the rain kept falling, the sound of it like a thousand tiny heartbreaks against the glass.

When I finally spoke, my voice barely rose above a whisper.

"I don't want to hate you," I said. "So please... if you still care about me at all, don't say another word tonight. Just let me go upstairs and pretend, for a few hours, that this isn't real."

He nodded once, eyes glassy but dry. "Okay."

I turned toward the stairs. My legs felt heavy, the air thick. Each step echoed faintly, the sound swallowed by the storm.

The light from the living room faded behind me until only the shadows remained.

In the bedroom - our bedroom - everything looked the same. But the air was colder. The bed still unmade, his pillow untouched.

I sat on the edge of the mattress, tracing the faint crease where he'd slept that morning. The space beside me felt impossibly wide now.

Outside, the rain kept falling - steady, endless - as if the sky itself refused to look away.