Too Cold to Love: Letting My Wife and Child Go

I decided it was time to pull the plug. I was done playing my part in this game.

Even if her leaving meant meeting the tragic end originally destined for me, I didn't want to keep enduring such fake affection for even a second longer. I was ready to lay my cards on the table and end it once and for all.

But Cheryl insisted we go on a honeymoon. Afraid I might turn her down, she pulled out all the stops, painting a vivid picture of the perfect getaway.

I knew she wanted to use the honeymoon to push her plan forward, hoping that in some romantic moment, my affection level would finally max out so she could punch her ticket home.

Her description of the trip was so beautiful and tempting that I couldn't help indulging in those romantic fantasies again.

"Let the dream last one more month before it all goes dark," I told myself.

Even if it all came to nothing, at least I would have a few more wonderful memories to hold onto.

I clung to the slim chance that maybe, just maybe, she would change her mind.

A month later, she dropped the bombshell that she was pregnant.

It was the last thing I expected. From the moment we got together, she had been adamant about not having children.

She used to pout and say, "I don't want a child stealing your attention. I want you all to myself forever."

I had agreed. As long as I had her, I didn't feel like I was missing out on anything else.

But now, she was telling me she was pregnant.

"Wait," I said, caught off guard. "I thought you were on the pill?"

Her expression changed instantly. "What's that supposed to mean? You don't want this child?"

When she realized the pregnancy still wasn't enough to max out my affection, Cheryl was disappointed. She immediately decided to go to the hospital and terminate it.

However, the doctor warned her that due to her specific physical condition, an abortion would likely ruin her chances of ever conceiving again.

After wavering for a while, she eventually decided to keep the child.

Late that night, I overheard her venting to her System.

"No wonder his own parents don't like him," she hissed. "He's not even a normal human! Aren't men supposed to be obsessed with carrying on their family line? I'm carrying his child, and yet his affection level still won't max out. He's cold and heartless. A total freak!"

"I can't have an abortion. I still need to give Gavin children. Gavin definitely won't blame me. I'm sacrificing myself for our future together."

…

No matter what she thought, the child she carried was mine.

I figured that once the child was born, I would support whatever choice she made. Raising him as a single father was also an option. Anything was better than living alone.

The child was born, and he grew up in what felt like the blink of an eye.

I loved him with everything I had, took care of him, and worked myself to the bone trying to be a qualified father. Unfortunately, the feeling wasn't mutual. Jasper didn't love me either.

He only loved the perfect, "real" daddy Cheryl had told him about in another world.

The food on the table had gone cold. Pulling myself out of my memories, I scraped every dish into the trash, scrubbed the plates clean, and began tidying up the house.

From now on, it would just be me.

Things would unfold the way they had in the original story. I would drop dead from a sudden heart attack in this yard. My body would lie there, forgotten, until the stench drifted down the block and someone finally bothered to check.

But until that day came, I would keep this house in order and live my life as best I could.

I tended to the plants in the yard. The garden bed I had reserved on the east side had always remained empty.

When I first met Cheryl, I wanted to plant a cherry tree there because of her name.

I told her excitedly, "We can admire the cherry blossoms in spring and eat cherries in summer. Wouldn't that be nice?"

But she shut the idea down immediately. "Don't you know how much of a pain cherry trees are to grow?"

"You're so ignorant," she mocked. "A cherry tree takes at least three years to bear fruit. Who has the patience to wait that long just for a handful of cherries?"

It turned out she had been preparing to leave all along. She didn't even have the patience to wait three years.

What she hadn't realized was that it would take nine years—from our first date, through the wedding, to Jasper's fifth birthday—for her to finally complete her mission and leave.

If I had planted that cherry tree back then, it would be covered in blossoms by now.