The Pink Lie

Sunlight streamed through the sheer curtains outside, casting mottled patterns upon the carpet. I leaned against the sofa, my hand gently resting on my five-months-bulged belly, feeling the faint movements of the baby inside. This is the child of Eddie Gabriel and me, due next April, a treasure our whole family has long awaited. To ensure the child's steady development, from the day my pregnancy was confirmed, I completely stopped working at the company and stayed home devoted to pregnancy maintenance. Every morning before leaving for work, Eddie Gabriel would gently kiss my forehead, reminding me to rest well, and in the evenings he always brought back my favorite snacks. To outsiders, we appeared as a loving and harmonious couple, on the verge of welcoming new life. I once believed that such happiness would endure forever. That afternoon, Eddie Gabriel received an urgent call from the company. In his haste to leave, he left his briefcase by the entrance. Thinking he might need it when he returned that evening, I rose to take the briefcase to the study to put it away. Halfway there, I noticed the briefcase's zipper was not fully closed, and something inside shifted—a small white bottle slipped out. I bent down to pick it up, and as I looked at it, my heart plunged deeply. It was a bottle of Folic Acid Tablets, the label still clearly visible, marked "Suitable for pre-pregnancy and early pregnancy." Folic acid? A sudden wave of doubt surged within me. I was already five months pregnant, long past the stage when folic acid supplementation was necessary. Eddie Gabriel had always been meticulous; there was no way he could be unaware of this. Moreover, this bottle of folic acid looked freshly opened, the bottle still very clean—not like an old item that had been stored for a long time. Why would he buy folic acid? A terrifying thought flashed through my mind, sending chills all over me. I forced down the panic swelling in my chest, placing the folic acid tablets back into the briefcase, yet I no longer had the strength to see the bag out. I collapsed onto the sofa, my fingers icy cold, my mind a chaotic whirlwind. Eddie Gabriel had been saying lately that the company was busy; he often returned late and sometimes even stayed overnight at the company. He said it was a new company he co-founded with his close brother Quincy Scott, still in its infancy, so it was normal to be overwhelmed with work. I had seen Quincy a few times; Eddie always said they had grown up together as childhood friends, as close as siblings. I had never thought much of it before, but now, that bottle of folic acid tablets felt like a thorn piercing painfully at my heart. With trembling hands, I picked up my phone and opened the Countdown App we share. We set our baby's Due Date there, checking the countdown every day with hearts full of hope. But when I opened the app, I found, besides our baby's Due Date reminder, an unfamiliar countdown. The date was set for September 1st next year, with a note boldly marked "Baby's Due Date." September 1st? I checked it over and over; my heart felt as if gripped by an invisible hand, making it difficult to breathe. My baby is due in April—this September 1st Due Date clearly does not belong to me. Eddie Gabriel—he truly has a problem. Tears welled up uncontrollably, blurring my vision. Those gentle admonitions, those thoughtful gestures—all had become bitter mockery in this moment.