Chapter 3

I couldn't understand it. How could people change so easily? The mother-in-law who had once treated me like her own daughter had turned her back on me. The man who had been my husband for 20 years was no different. When Benson came home, what he saw was me curled up by the window, crying so hard I couldn't even make a sound. He pulled me into his arms, his body still carrying the chill from outside. He took off his coat and gently slipped my frozen hands into the warmth of his sweater. For a brief moment, it felt like we had gone back in time—back to 20 years ago when we loved each other most. Back then, life was hard. Benson's father had cut off all of his paths forward just to make him regret getting a vasectomy. And because of that, he didn't like me either. In the vast city, we slept in a basement unit and lived on instant noodles and plain bread. At our poorest, we couldn't even afford a sanitary pad. On the coldest nights, we huddled together in bed, wearing every piece of clothing we had and wrapping ourselves in a blanket. We'd shiver so hard it was a struggle to even speak. I had cried the same way back then. I kept wondering if we should just give up. If we kept freezing like that, Benson's already fragile health was only going to get worse. I had told him, "Benson, let's just give up and get a divorce. Go home and admit you were wrong. Maybe if you go back now, you'll still get a warm bowl of chicken noodle soup." But Benson had only held me tighter, tucking my hands inside his shirt and wrapping his arms around my feet, tense and afraid. "No. I won't divorce you, Yvonne. I won't admit to anything because I didn't do anything wrong. I'm sorry. I knew the tubal ligation would be painful, and I didn't want you to suffer. But in the end, I still made you suffer." Tears from the past and the present blurred together. That bitter taste rose from the back of my throat once more. "Benson… Let's move, okay? If you want children, we can have one of our own. Just you and me, okay? Why? Why didn't you tell me when you decided you wanted kids?" The silence that followed was so long, it felt like a blow that snapped me out of it. I looked at Benson, still a little dazed. Following the angle of his tense, hesitant face, I finally realized he hadn't come back alone. That was the first time I saw Yara Langford. Just like in the videos Benson's mother had posted, she was young and elegant, exuding a soft, maternal glow. And me… I glanced blankly at my reflection in the window. My eyes were red and swollen like walnuts, the corners lined with wrinkles from crying too much. I looked utterly pathetic. A strange emotion twisted in my chest. Yara's eyes stayed fixed on the spot where Benson was warming my hands. The hurt in her gaze didn't seem fake, but even so, she forced herself to push the child beside her forward to greet me. Benson clearly couldn't bear to see her like this. He let go of my hands without hesitation and walked over to wrap an arm around her shoulder. He didn't say anything. He just pressed a tender, soothing kiss to her forehead. That sour ache surged up again. My fingertips, not yet warmed, turned cold once more. Yara touched her face shyly, then looked at me with a smug smile. "Stellan, go ahead. This is Ms. Winters. Say hello to Ms. Winters." I froze, unable to believe what I had just heard. "What… What did you call him?" "Stellan Locke. Stellan as in after the word 'star.' Benson said he hopes he'll grow up to be bright and admired like a star in the sky." In that instant, my ears buzzed and my mind went blank. Stellan said something to me with his lips pressed together, but I couldn't hear a thing. I turned to Benson, stunned. He lowered his head, avoiding my gaze. Stellan Locke. That was the name he and I had agreed on years ago—the first time we talked about having a child someday.