The Dinner That Took My Father and My Child

It felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over me, suffocating every breath.

As expected, you can act, but you can’t fake your social life.

When I first tried to fit in, everyone seemed as friendly as angels.

But I took their politeness seriously. They were impenetrable fortresses, and I, forever, the unacceptable outsider.

The cramps worsened, and I trembled as I pulled out my phone, snapping pictures and saving them page by page.

By the time Ethan came in to retrieve his phone, I was already curled up on the sofa in pain.

He didn’t even glance at me, eager to leave.

"Wife, my brothers want to go on a cruise. You’re pregnant and can’t join them, so don’t get involved."

My face went pale as I tugged at the hem of his shirt.

"I have a stomachache. Will you come to the hospital with me?"

Asking questions I already knew the answers to was my last chance to give him a way out.

If he insisted on leaving, I wouldn’t want him anyway.

In the deadlock, Tara smacked her lips and urged, "Hurry up! It’s scorching!"

Ethan shook my hand off, impatience etched across his face.

"What are you pretending to? You were fine just now. I hate it when you bring up the kids."

He shoved me back onto the sofa, and my heart sank.

Tara came in from outside and grabbed Ethan’s ear.

"Are you trying to kill yourself? Why so aggressive? Aren’t all pregnant women like this? They always want everyone around. What’s wrong with being a little caring?"

Ethan snorted, disdain dripping from his words.

"If she were even a tenth as good as you, I wouldn’t be so bothered."

His gaze dropped to Tara’s shoulder straps, and he reached out, adjusting them with effortless ease.

"Little idiot! Can’t you see it’s loose?"

Tara swiped her hair aside, giggling.

"Be gentle! You’re hurting me."

Ethan pressed down on them, grinning wickedly.

"No way! It’s just an airport."

Amidst their laughter, they disappeared around the corner.

I called Henry Morgan directly: "I’ll meet you at your cruise ship later."

The other end replied, "Okay."

Ethan had no idea that Henry was my childhood sweetheart. Over twenty years of unwavering friendship—I knew better than anyone what pure loyalty looked like.

Six years of love, from school uniforms to wedding dresses.

I wanted to see for myself just how rotten this relationship had become at its root.

The sea breeze was salty and fishy.

On the deck of the luxury cruise ship, screams and laughter mingled.

I, wearing sunglasses and a mask, leaned against the railing.

I watched Tara, in a bikini, sitting close to Ethan, who was only in swimming trunks.

A cheesy game of passing tissues ensued.

Tara deliberately bit the tissue until only a corner remained, and Ethan tried to grab it but failed.

"Ethan lost! Accept your punishment!"

Someone jeered, "How about confessing your love publicly? How about Tara?"

Tara giggled and collapsed onto Ethan’s lap, punching his chest lightly.

"Oh, so embarrassing!"

Another shouted, "What’s the point of confessing after all this?"

"Tara, what exactly happened? Tell us everything!"

Everyone laughed, but Tara suddenly turned blunt:

"Look at you! A monkey stealing peaches!"

Ethan swiftly blocked her playful attack, scolding jokingly, "You’re so rebellious!"

Amid the banter, he accidentally grabbed the string of her swimsuit, and it slipped loose.

Tara screamed, and Ethan, almost reflexively, hugged her tightly and yelled, "Turn around! Don’t look!"

The waves rolled beneath them.

He gently helped her tie the string again, his fingertips brushing her bare back.