“She’s still outside. Anna wanted to come see you. She’s not as bad as you think.”
“And? You came here just to tell me that?”
On the surface, I looked calm, but inside, I was shaken.
Did he even understand what he was saying?
David pressed on. “Of course not. What I want to say is—can’t you and Anna just coexist peacefully?”
“Anna is easy to please. Just buy her something she likes, and she’s happy.”
My face hardened as I asked, word by word, “What exactly are you trying to say?”
The man I had shared my bed with suddenly felt like a stranger.
It was as if, after seven years, I was meeting him for the first time.
“My point is—you’ll always be my wife. She’ll just be my girlfriend.
Since you can’t have children, once she gives birth, I’ll let the child call you Mom.”
I stared at David in utter disbelief.
Had I fallen into some nightmare?
I was his wife, Anna was his girlfriend—and he thought two women sharing a husband was acceptable?
If this ever went public, it would cause a storm of outrage.
Three years ago, after a checkup, the doctor told me I had fertility issues—so severe that I might never conceive.
My first thought back then was divorce.
I didn’t want to trap David in a childless marriage.