Our Love Has Expired

Lucas clapped me on the shoulder, clearly pleased.

He then settled into the couch, busy himself on his phone.

I chucked the expired lipstick into a trash bag, taking the last batch of trash out with me.

I wasn't planning on coming back after today.

At the market, I picked up a variety of fresh ingredients.

Maybe it was because it had been so long since I last cooked fish, but I was a bit out of practice.

I cut my finger slicing the fish, then got splashed by sizzling oil—a real comedy of errors in the kitchen.

It took half a day, but I managed to cobble together a full meal.

Lucas tried to hug me but recoiled at the smell of cooking on my clothes and backed off without a word.

I hung up my apron and whispered, "Isn't she coming to eat? It's best served warm."

"What?"

"Call Maggie over. I tailored these dishes for pregnancy. She's young, and doesn't know about these things. You'll need to keep an eye out for her."

Lucas went pale, suddenly lost for words.

"Sarah, I... I don't understand what you're talking about."

I laid out three place settings and handed him the divorce papers.

"I know all about it. I can't wait for her to have the baby."

"Lucas, let's get a divorce. You love kids—don't start his life in the shadows."

Lucas, frantic, clutched my hand.

"No, this isn't what it looks like. Let me explain."

I studied his face closely.

His features were the same as ever, but the youthful innocence I fell in love with was gone.

His eyes, once bright as stars, now welled with tears.

Something inside me stirred, prompting me to ask, "Lucas, for the sake of our ten years together, can you finally tell me the truth?"

"Do you really love her that much?"

Why doesn't ten years of marriage measure up to a fleeting crush?

Lucas knew he couldn't lie to me anymore.

He remained silent for a long time, then slowly began to speak.

"She's different," he admitted.

They had met a year ago on a stormy night when everyone else was cursing the rain; Maggie was jumping around, laughing.

Soaked to the skin, yet she joked about it being like a day at a water park.

Lucas looked down, his voice a murmur, "Just at that moment, I felt she was unlike any other woman..."

Raising his head, his voice grew strained.

"Sarah! Haven't you ever made mistakes?"

"Back then, you just pushed me to be more ambitious, to buy a house, a car."

"I was under so much pressure, only with her did I feel relief. I didn't want to betray you—it was you who drove me to it!"

I thought I could hold back, but I couldn't.

My hand struck his cheek before I could stop it.

Tears flooded my face as I trembled uncontrollably.

"Lucas, do you even have a conscience?"

"Is my stress any less significant than yours? Have you forgotten how we lost our baby? Or why I ended up like this?"

I'll never forget—I can't ever forget.

Back then, we believed love was enough to fill our bellies.

Couldn't afford a house? We'd rent. No car? We'd use scooters.

As long as we were together, I thought I could handle anything.

The night we lost our child was also a stormy one.

Unable to hail a cab, by the time help arrived, it was too late—the heartbeat had stopped.

I survived a massive hemorrhage only by a hysterectomy.

Long-term hormone treatments after that caused my weight to balloon.

That's when I realized how important money really was.

If we had money, we could have had a car.

And with a car, we could have gotten to the hospital in time to save our baby.

Yes, I became materialistic, I pushed him, because I couldn't forget our loss, because I dreamed of a better future for us.

Now, we have everything.

Except each other.

Hearing this, Lucas began to cry.

"Sarah, I'm sorry... I was just weak."

"I've been hiding this to protect you from the pain."

"Can you forgive me just this once? We've survived worse. I promise I'll make sure we just keep the baby and Maggie doesn't interfere with our lives again."