Betrayal on the Day of Prayer

On the first morning of the New Year, cold wrapped in damp mist slipped into my collar, piercing my neck taut. I wrapped my coat tighter, pressing my fingertips hard against the lapel; the dull ache in my lower abdomen still faintly stirred. This was the lingering aftereffect of the third test tube failure, like a shadow I could not shed, constantly reminding me of my humiliation. "One last try—please bless me with a healthy child." I whispered softly, teeth clenched, as I stepped onto the stone stairs of P Mountain. The stone steps were glazed with thin frost, crunching beneath my feet. All around me, people were paired up, praying together; their laughter and joy only made my loneliness feel more profound. Before leaving, I called my husband, Felix Collins. "Honey, today I'm going to P Mountain to pray for blessings. Can you come with me?" My voice carried a note of earnest pleading. On the other end, I heard keyboard typing; Felix's tone was a bit hurried: "Sorry, dear, the company has an urgent matter. I have to work overtime on New Year's Day, so I really can't accompany you." "Take care of yourself and be careful on the road." I didn't think much of it then, only reminded him, "Don't overwork yourself either; remember to eat on time." It was only after I turned past a hall thick with incense smoke and vibrant with worshippers that I saw that familiar silhouette. A gray cashmere coat, its cuffs embroidered with intricate dark patterns—a gift I had carefully chosen for his birthday last year, costing me half a month's salary. My heart skipped a beat, and my blood seemed to freeze. Instinctively, I hid behind a stone pillar, my fingertips ice cold, clutching the hem of the coat tightly. Beside him stood a young woman, clad in a loose red down jacket, one hand pressed protectively over her swelling belly, the other gripping his arm with an intimacy that pierced like a blade. "Felix, do you think the baby will have eyes as beautiful as yours someday?" The woman's voice was coquettish, laced with deliberate pride, her final syllable drawn out long and lingering. Felix lowered his head, his gaze resting on the woman's abdomen, in a tone softer than I had ever heard—like warm water infused with honey: "Definitely. Our son, a part of me and a part of you—his eyes will shine like yours; his nose will be as straight as mine." Son? The word, like a blade honed on ice, pierced straight through my heart, making my breath catch sharply in pain. A chill ran through my entire body, my limbs suddenly going weak, and my body slid half an inch down the stone pillar. I hastily steadied myself with my hands, barely managing to stand firm. "You're the one who cares for me, knowing I'm pregnant, and purposely canceled work to come pray with me." The woman gently shook his arm, her voice filled with pride, "Unlike some who occupy Mrs. Collins' position but can't even have a child—what good are they?" I held my breath, waiting for Felix Collins to respond. But he did not. He simply patted the woman's hand, his tone indulgent: "Don't say such things. From now on, I will be here. Once the child is born, I will give you both the best life: a big house and the finest maternity nurse." "When will you confront her?" The woman pressed, "I don't want to keep living in secret. I want to openly bring the baby and spend the New Year with you." Felix Collins was silent for a few seconds, then whispered, "Wait a little longer; she's still undergoing IVF. If we mention divorce now, I fear it will distress her." "When she has completely given up, I will naturally handle the formalities with her." I bit hard on my lips, tasting the sharp metallic tang of blood. He knew all the suffering I had endured to have a child, yet he stayed with another woman, hoping for a different child. A chill spread from the soles of my feet throughout my body; I could no longer hold on and slid down the pillar, my coat dusted with dirt and frost. The sounds around me blurred, but their conversation echoed in my ears like a spell.