Chapter 2

She was right about one thing: I was selfish. I loved dancing. I had my own burning ambitions and unyielding drive.

I wanted to become a master in the ballet world; I wanted to stand at the absolute summit of that stage.

"Go drink that brew. I went out of my way back to my hometown just to get that fertility recipe for you. If Jordan hadn't insisted on marrying you back then, why would I be stuck here catering to your whims? God only knows what spell you put on him."

Rolling her eyes dramatically, she turned on her heel and slammed her bedroom door shut.

"Thank you, Mom. Thank you for your trouble," I called out submissively as I headed to the kitchen, desperate to avoid another fight.

The bitter, foul-smelling herbal concoction hit my stomach like liquid lead, sending violent spasms through my gut. I dry-heaved over the sink until tears streamed down my face.

An overwhelming wave of grievance washed over me. All I wanted in that moment was for Jordan to hold me tight.

I checked my phone; it was almost eleven at night.

I dialed his number. After three or four rings, the line connected. "Jordan?"

A sweet, lilting female voice answered instead. "Hello~ Mr. Hayes is occupied right now and can't come to the phone~"

"Who are you?"

"I'm his personal assistant, Marie. May I ask what this is regarding?"

"I'm his wife. I'm calling to ask when he's coming home."

"Oh! Let me check for you."

Through the receiver, I heard the faint rushing sound of a shower in the distance, followed by knocking, and then that cloying, sugary voice: "Boss~ Your wife is asking what time you'll be home."

The line shifted, and Jordan's voice came through. "Hey, baby. I just finished dinner with some clients and had a bit too much to drink. Ended up throwing up on my shirt, so I’m just taking a quick shower at the hotel. I’ll be home soon, wait up for me, okay?"

A knot loosened in my chest. "Send me your location. I’ll drive over and pick you up."

"No need, sweetie. My assistant already called an Uber for me. Go get some rest—you had a big show tonight, you must be exhausted."

"Okay... Drive safe. I'll be waiting for you."

Hanging up, I took a shower and sat propped up in bed, waiting for Jordan to come home.

Jordan and I met at a college mixer. Back then, he was gentle, articulate, and effortlessly charming. His pursuit was never flashy or over-the-top, but rather a quiet, persistent stream of devotion that gently wore away my defenses until I fell completely for him.

When I had early morning ballet drills, he would wake up at dawn, buy my favorite breakfast, and take a detour to my studio just to hand it to me before rushing to his own lectures.

At night, when I stayed behind to practice alone, he would quietly sit in the corner of the studio, recording practice videos on his phone and going through them with me frame by frame to see where my form faltered.

Whenever my legs were battered and bruised from rehearsals, he would tenderly massage ointment into my skin. When a harsh instructor brought me to tears, he’d clown around just to make me smile, swearing I was his fairy, the brightest star meant to shine on every stage.

After graduation, when I was accepted into the city company, he was right there beside me.

When the acceptance letter arrived, he lifted me high into the air, spinning me around. "I knew it! My Joy is the most talented fairy in the world!"

We naturally tied the knot as soon as we were ready. He told me I was his treasure and that he wanted to seal our bond with a marriage certificate so he could focus on building his business without fear of losing me.

Back then, we reached a clear consensus: no children for the foreseeable future.

He used to say: "A dancer’s golden years are far too short. My Joy belongs on stage, blooming in all her glory. Just having you as my wife is more than enough for me. You’re meant to be a world-renowned ballerina, and I will never hold you back!"

I truly believed that besides my own parents, no one in this world could ever love me more deeply than Jordan.

Dating is about two people, but marriage involves two families.

His father passed away when Jordan was young, leaving his mother to raise him on her own. Jordan was undeniably driven. Catching the wave of the tech boom, he took a tiny independent startup and expanded it into a firm of over a hundred employees in just four years.

He often reminded me of how much his mother had sacrificed for him. Empathizing with her struggles, I did everything in my power to be a dutiful, considerate daughter-in-law.

Yet, the issue of having a baby remained a jagged chasm between Martha and me.

"I know it's hard on you, baby. My mom is old-fashioned, and having a grandchild means everything to her. Don't worry, I'll handle it. You just focus on doing what you love," Jordan would soothe me every time I felt wronged.

"He loves me," I told myself over and over.