Chapter 1

My wife is six months pregnant, but she insists on a business trip out of town.

I begged her not to go. For the baby's sake.

She reassured me, saying if she earns more now, I'll have it easier.

While helping her pack her underwear bag, a phone I'd never seen before fell out.

The screen flickered. A private message popped up.

"You're such a dirty girl. Even knocked up and you still can't behave?"

I stared at the contact name for five seconds.

The contact was saved as "Master."

And I was saved as "Chump."

...

The bathroom door opened.

I panicked and shoved the backup phone back to the bottom of her suitcase, burying it under layers of clothes.

Steam poured out. Samantha stepped out wrapped in a towel, her face flushed pink from the heat. Her skin was pale.

Pregnancy had made her curvier. Her cheeks had a rosy glow.

By all appearances, she was the picture of a happy mother-to-be.

She walked over, reaching out to touch my forehead.

"What's wrong? You look awful."

I instinctively stepped back, dodging her hand.

Samantha's hand froze mid-air. A flash of confusion crossed her eyes.

"Didn't sleep well." I forced out a smile uglier than crying.

"Had a nightmare. I'm worried this trip will be too much for you."

Samantha relaxed and lowered her hand, giving me a playful eye-roll.

"I told you it's fine. The client is really nice. Why are you more nervous than me?"

She sat on the edge of the bed and started drying her hair.

Looking at her swollen belly, that thorn in my heart twisted again.

Five years together. That's my wife. Carrying my child.

I still couldn't give up. I wanted to give her one last chance.

If she'd turn back now, for the baby's sake, maybe I could pretend I never saw that phone.

"Honey, do you really have to go?"

I crouched in front of her, looking up, my voice already begging.

"I'm not afraid of hard work. I can deliver food. Drive for Uber."

"As long as you stay home and rest, I'll do anything."

"Please don't go. Okay?"

Samantha stopped drying her hair. She lowered her eyes and sighed.

"Babe, I already signed the contract with the client. If I back out now, we'd owe three times the penalty fee."

She adjusted the towel wrapped around her body, shifting to expose her calf.

I stared at that spot.

Above her knee, there was a coin-sized bruise. Purplish-blue.

For the past two months, she'd been locking the bathroom door. She wouldn't even let me in to deliver clean clothes.

The occasional glimpse of her arms and thighs always showed unexplained bruises.

Last week, it was on the inside of her left thigh.

The week before, her arm.

Every time I asked with concern, she had perfect excuses.

"The bathroom's so slippery. I bumped into something."

"Hit the corner of my desk. You know how clumsy pregnant women get."

I believed her. My heart ached for her.

I covered our entire bathroom with non-slip mats.

I bought foam bumpers and padded every sharp corner in the house.

I wished I could turn myself into cotton and wrap her in it.

Turns out I really am cotton.

A wad of cotton people use to wipe their ass.

What kind of bump leaves a mark on the inner thigh?

What kind of slip produces bruises that look like finger marks from someone squeezing hard?

I stared at her calf. My stomach churned.

Samantha seemed to notice my gaze. She pulled the towel down to cover her leg.

She walked over and naturally wrapped her arms around my neck, smelling of body wash.

She buried her face in my neck and nuzzled.

"Babe, blow-dry my hair for me."

"I leave early tomorrow morning. I want you to spend more time with me."

If this were yesterday, I would've thought this was a sweet burden.

Now I just felt disgusted. Every hair on my body stood on end.

I stiffly picked up the hair dryer, running my fingers through her hair.

Hot air roared, covering my rapid breathing.

What am I to her?

A sucker who provides a paycheck and a stable life?

"How many days this time?"

I turned off the dryer. My voice was so cold it scared me.

"Three days. I'll be back Sunday."

Samantha turned around and wrapped her arms around my waist, pressing my hand to her belly.

"You're gonna miss us, right? Me and the baby?"

My hand rested on the curve of her stomach.

"Yeah. I will."

Six months along.

Is it even mine?