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All for One Bowl of Fish Stew Novel Cover

All for One Bowl of Fish Stew

On their wedding anniversary, a pregnant woman struggling with morning sickness asks her husband, Luke Blackburn, to bring her fish stew. Luke returns late at night without the food, claiming he forgot. Suspicion takes root when she notices a long, unfamiliar hair on his clothes. Later, she finds a social media post by his colleague, Ruby Pollard, showcasing the exact meal. The photo captures Luke’s hands carefully deboning the fish for Ruby, exposing a painful betrayal.
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Chapter 1

On our wedding anniversary, I ask my husband, Luke Blackburn, to buy me some fish stew. Since I'm in my first trimester, I keep vomiting every now and then due to morning sickness. Right now, I have an intense craving for fish stew.

But Luke comes home empty-handed in the middle of the night. He claims that he's completely forgotten about my request.

I don't say anything at all. All I notice is a strand of long hair sticking to Luke's collar that doesn't belong to me.

Some time later, I see the fish stew I never got to eat in a photo that Luke's colleague, Ruby Pollard, has uploaded to her social media feed.

The caption reads, "Luke ordered this dish for me. He knows that I love fish stew from this particular restaurant the most. I'm so touched by his gesture!"

In the photo, I see a pair of familiar hands picking out fish bones from the meat tenderly just for Ruby.

The watch my husband, Luke Blackburn, was wearing was a gift I gave him for his birthday last year.

So, it wasn't that he was too busy. Instead, he was just saving his tenderness and care for someone who needed it more.

I turned off my phone, and my stomach suddenly churned violently. I hugged the trash bin and threw up until there was nothing left.

A bitter taste spread from my throat all the way to the depths of my heart.

I set down the trash bin and started laughing all of a sudden. It turned out I'd been the real fool all along.

When I went back to the bedroom, Luke had just come out of the shower.

"Why aren't you asleep yet?" he asked.

"Luke."

He looked at me curiously.

"Let's talk."

Luke set down the towel and sat on the edge of the bed across from me.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Who is Ruby Pollard to you?"

His body instantly stiffened, the color draining from his face. That flustered look of a man caught red-handed was written all over his face.

"What nonsense are you talking about?" he asked reproachfully, frowning at me. "She's my colleague—you already know that."

I nodded. "Yes, I know. I also know she likes fish stew, has beautiful curly brown hair, and that when she works late, you not only take her food but thoughtfully pick out the fish bones for her as well."

Luke's expression completely changed.

"Have you been following me? Or checking my phone?" He stood up abruptly, looming over me. "Cynthia Roth, since when did you become like this?"

I didn't move and just looked up at him calmly. "I didn't. You just weren't careful enough."

"So what? Even if I did have dinner with Ruby, what's the big deal? Are you really going to read so much into everything and make such a fuss? We've been together for ten years, and you're pregnant now. So, can you stop being so paranoid and sensitive?"

I looked at him and suddenly felt it just wasn't worth it.

"Luke, aren't you tired?"

He was struck dumb.

"Isn't it exhausting playing the devoted husband in front of me by day and the caring boyfriend in front of her by night?"

"I'm not doing any of that," he instinctively blurted out, but his voice had already gone hollow.

"Forget it," I said with a wave of my hand, not wanting to hear any more of his excuses.

"What do you want then?" he asked, agitation creeping into his voice.

"What do I want?" I let out a self-deprecating laugh. "Luke, I want a divorce."

But he refused to agree to it. With reddened eyes, he asked me, "Cynthia, we've been together for ten years, and you're carrying our baby. Must you be this ruthless?"

He started recounting every moment from our college days until now, saying he just made a mistake and that I was the only one he'd ever loved.

He spoke with such emotion as if he were the one who'd been wronged.

I didn't say a word. Instead, I just waited for him to stop, then asked coldly, "Are you done?"

He stared at me, stunned.

"If you are, then leave. I'm tired."

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