Chapter 2

When Willow was twelve weeks along, Wendy, her mother, said that she wanted to treat the whole family to a meal.

The next morning, Luke video-called her, and Willow answered with a huff. “What?”

Luke stared at her for two seconds. “You look like you’re going to attend your own funeral, Willow.”

Willow grabbed the box of tissues from the table and threw it at the screen. “To hell with going to my own funeral!”

Luke laughed so hard that his shoulders trembled. “Switch to a red dress. It makes you look healthy. You don’t want Mommy dearest to think Samuel is abusing a pregnant woman.”

After insulting him a few more times, Willow hung up. Then, five minutes later, she changed into a red dress.

I stood by the wardrobe and did not know what to say.

Luke arrived earlier than we did in the restaurant’s private room. He was confirming the reservation with the waitress.

When Willow stepped in, she scowled. “Why did you order fish with pickles? I can’t stand sour things right now.”

Luke tossed the menu on the table. “You can’t stand it, but Samuel can. He’s been eating bland food with you for three months. I bet he’s forgotten what real food tastes like.”

The relatives laughed. “Those two are the same as ever. They argue the moment they see each other.”

Willow laughed as well. As I watched, I felt a weight against my chest.

Once dinner started, Wendy brought out a small, golden pendant. “For my grandchild.”

She then turned to me. “Samuel, it wasn’t easy for Willow to get pregnant. Don’t let her keep things bottled up all the time now. Taking care of a pregnant woman’s feelings is absolutely necessary.”

I nodded.

Luke grabbed some fish and said lazily, “Don’t worry, Wendy. Samuel’s great at taking care of people. Even if the world collapses, he’ll shield Willow first.”

Willow glared at him. “Will it kill you to not speak, at least for today?”

Luke raised an eyebrow at that. “I’m praising your husband here, and you’re still mad?”

“You shutting up is the highest form of praise for him.”

Everyone laughed.

Just then, the waitress came in with a tray of soup, but she slipped.

The scalding soup headed straight for Willow, and I instinctively reached over to shield her.

The hot soup spilled on my forearm. It hurt so much that my vision turned white.

The room descended into chaos.

Willow yelled, “Luke!”

I glanced over and saw that Luke had bumped into the back of a chair when Willow shoved him away, leaving only the edges of his cuffs wet.

He was stunned as well. “Willow, Samuel’s the one who got burned!”

It was only then that Willow snapped her head around. When she saw that my forearm was red and blistering, her face turned pale. “Samuel!”

She rushed over. With trembling hands, she tried to roll up my sleeves, but I avoided her hands. “It’s fine.”

She teared up. “How could it be fine? Are you stupid?”

For a moment, she looked as though her heart ached for me, but I no longer had the energy to wonder whether she truly meant it.

Because when the soup spilled, I had not been the first person she called out to.

I went to the washroom and washed the burn with some cold water. My skin was painfully red.

Outside, Willow knocked on the door. “Samuel, open the door. Let me see.”

I did not move.

Then, she said softly, “I didn’t do it on purpose. Luke was the closest, and I was worried he might bump into me. Don’t read too much into it, okay?”

I looked at my reflection in the mirror.

Okay?

Whenever she asked me that, her voice was always the same. It would be soft and gentle, as though the moment I said those words, all the hurt would simply disappear.

When we went back to the room, Luke was fiddling with the pendant. Willow smacked his hand away. “Don’t touch that. It’s for the baby.”

Luke chuckled. “What’s the big deal? It’s not going to break just because I touch it.”

“You’re going to jinx it with your rotten luck,” Willow said, insulting him.

He looked at me. “Hear that? She’s so overprotective.”

I picked up my jacket. Willow immediately got up as well. “Where are you going?”

“The hospital.”

“I’ll come with you.”

But the moment she took a step, she clutched her stomach. Wendy immediately rushed over to steady her, looking terrified.

“Did you just get a fright? Sit down!”

Willow froze. She hesitated for barely two seconds before turning to me. “Samuel, go ahead. I’ll come find you later.”

“Okay,” I said.

That night, the doctor cut open my drenched sleeve.

When he tore off the cloth stuck to my skin, it hurt so much that my hands trembled.

My phone screen lit up. Willow had texted me.

[Tell me when you’re done. I’m worried.]

Half a minute passed before Luke texted too.

[Bro, Willow’s crying because of you. You can’t expect a pregnant woman to cater to your feelings. Don’t push it.]

As I stared at the words, I laughed bitterly.

Apparently, even my pain was a wrong I had done to Willow.