Sleep evaded me as I stared at the ceiling until dawn.

Around seven, I heard Adrian's voice outside, accompanied by a woman repeatedly saying "yes, yes, yes."


The housekeeper, I assumed.

Soon after, the front door closed and an engine roared to life—Adrian heading to work.

I remained in bed, my thoughts a tangled web of confusion.


I'd always been reserved—that's why I'd secretly pined for Adrian all those years instead of approaching him.

But discovering that my crush had somehow led to marriage was mind-boggling.


Yet beneath my shock lurked an undeniable thrill.

This should have been a dream come true, but apparently I'd ruined everything.

My emotional cluelessness had clearly been my downfall.

Deep in thought, I jumped when the bedroom door swung open.

A woman in a housekeeper's uniform entered, then gasped when she spotted me.

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I didn't know anyone was in here."

"No problem. I was about to get up anyway."

I offered a reassuring smile, which seemed to ease her tension as she cautiously stepped inside.

"The master has left for work. I thought this room would be empty—don't you normally sleep in your own bedroom?"

My own room?

I suddenly remembered seeing a bed in that other room when I was searching for clothes yesterday.

So we'd been sleeping separately all this time.

Were we already living as a separated couple?

That would explain Adrian's confusion last night.

I wanted to crawl under the bed and die.

I buried my burning face in my hands, wishing I could erase the last twenty-four hours.

Tiny footsteps approached—Milo stood at the door, barefoot and hesitant, watching me with curious eyes.

"Milo, come here, sweetie."

I beckoned with open arms, my voice gentle.

His face lit up instantly. He dashed toward me.

He launched himself onto the bed, his little teeth flashing in a joyful grin.

"Mommy."

He snuggled against me, his voice muffled.

My heart turned to pudding.

This precious child was really mine.

Whatever issues Adrian and I had, this child was my flesh and blood. I would be the mother he deserved.

I bid the housekeeper goodbye and whisked Milo away for some mother-son time.

We hit the mall, where I bought him adorable outfits and grabbed some normal clothes for myself too.

My current wardrobe was clearly not something I wanted to continue wearing.

I watched Milo devour his ice cream, his little face smeared with sticky sweetness.

I tenderly wiped his messy cheeks.

"Milo, what was Mommy like before?"

His smile vanished, his little lips turning downward.

"You didn't like Milo."

Then, barely audible:

"You were mean."

Children don't lie. His words stabbed my heart.

Had I really been that terrible? A person I wouldn't even recognize?

Then why had Adrian married me in the first place?

Had he actually loved me?

If so, the man had bizarre taste in women.

"Mommy, I want that!"

Milo's chubby finger suddenly pointed at a McDonald's poster showcasing their latest family meal.

The universal appeal of fast food strikes again.

Me: "You got it, kiddo!"

An hour later, Milo and I sat sheepishly on Adrian's office couch, like two children caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

The evidence of our crime: a delicious-smelling McDonald's feast spread across the coffee table.