Just Foodie Buddies? Yeah, Right.

Vincent was fast asleep beside me.

Perhaps he was feeling cold—his arm tightened around mine, his hand pressing down directly on my stomach.

I had a weak stomach to begin with, and now, in the early stages of pregnancy, the pressure sent a wave of nausea crashing over me. Sleep fled instantly.

I pushed Vincent away in a panic. He muttered something in his sleep, then rolled over.

I didn't spare him another glance. Instead, I ran to the bathroom.

After what felt like an eternity of retching, I stumbled out, body weak and exhausted. I needed a glass of warm water, something to settle the churning in my stomach.

I assumed Vincent was still asleep. But when I reached the dining table, I found a steaming cup of herbal drink waiting for me.

Vincent was sitting nearby, rubbing his eyes, still half-asleep. When he saw me, he sighed, as if exasperated.

"If I don't watch over you for even a day, you forget to take your medicine, don't you?" he said. "My poor, fragile wife—what would you do without me?"

Next to the cup was a pill for my stomach. A freshly boiled kettle of water sat beside it, steam curling lazily into the air.

"Drink it while it's hot," he urged, pushing the cup toward me. "And after you're done, pour the leftover hot water into a heating pad and keep it on your stomach—it'll feel better."

Looking into his eyes, I felt a sudden ache in my heart.

He was too practiced at this. Too familiar with taking care of me, as if loving me had long since become muscle memory.

It made me want to soften. To waver.

But I couldn't.

Absolutely not.

I despised betrayal. It sickened me.

Ignoring the pill, I tilted my head back and swallowed the herbal drink in one go, forcing down the sting in my throat.

Then, I said, "Vincent, let's get a divorce."

Vincent froze. Then, as if convinced he had misheard, he reached out and tousled my hair.

"Did you wake up in a daze? Or did throwing up make you lightheaded? Stop talking nonsense."

I stepped away, out of his reach. My gaze met his, calm and unwavering.

"I know about you and Cassidy," I said. "Stop pretending."

For a fraction of a second, his expression went blank.

He recovered quickly, but I had already seen it.

He let out a laugh, easy and natural.

"Come on, what could possibly be going on between me and her? She's just a friend, at most a little closer than a friend. You know, a foodie buddy. You're still upset about earlier, aren't you?"

He grasped my shoulders and looked into my eyes calmly.

"I already explained, didn't I? You can't eat oily or spicy food because of your stomach. Why would I take you there? Just to sit and watch us eat? Wouldn't that be awkward for you?"

I didn't want to hear his excuses. I cut him off coldly.

"What's today's date?"

Vincent hesitated, as if trying to recall. Then, as realization dawned, he chuckled, shaking his head.

"Oh, so that's why you're upset. My dear wife, I'm really sorry. I'll take the day off tomorrow. We can redo our anniversary properly, alright?"

I opened my mouth, ready to expose him completely.

But at that moment, his phone rang.

A name flashed on the screen: Cassidy.

He didn't put it on speaker, but her voice came through, loud and clear.

"Vincent, that restaurant we went to today must've been unsanitary. I feel awful. My stomach hurts so much. Can you take me to the hospital? I just… I really want you here with me."

Vincent's brows furrowed instantly.

Even when I had just asked for a divorce, he hadn't looked this tense.

But when he spoke, his voice was gentle.

"Alright. Wear something warm. I'm coming now."