Lost Me, Gained Regret (Jane and Bryant Ferguson)

Could a strayed man ever be this casual and caring?

It was odd. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Bryant was also a whiz in the kitchen, whipping up delicious meals in no time.

Yet, he hardly ever cooked. But he served up an enticing tomato meat sauce pasta in about fifteen minutes.

"It's not bad!" I didn't hold back my praise after taking a bite. "Who taught you to cook? It is better than any restaurant's food."

He seemed momentarily lost in thought, his expression clouded. After a half-minute pause, he said quietly, "For those two years I spent studying abroad, I had to learn to fend for myself to satisfy my cravings for home."

It was just casual conversation on my part, and I didn't think much more of it.

After bathing and lying in bed, it was already past three in the morning.

Behind me, Bryant's warm body pressed against mine, his chin resting in the crook of my neck, gently nuzzling.

"Feeling it?" His voice was rough as if sanded down, his breath on my skin sending shivers down my spine.

Before I could respond, he leaned over, his hand slipping under the hem of my silk nightdress.

He was always dominant in bed, leaving little room for resistance.

But this time, I had to decline. "Honey, not tonight..." My voice was as weak as my body, melting into a puddle.

"Hmm?" Bryant continued to kiss my neck, his hand venturing lower, his words turning my cheeks scarlet. "This seems quite welcoming. Don't you agree?"

"I... I have a stomachache today."

At that, he finally ceased his actions, gently kissing my earlobe and pulling me into his embrace. "I forgot it. You're due for your period."

My relaxation was short-lived as I turned to gaze at him, unblinking. "My period was at the beginning of the month. It's already passed."

"Is that so?" He seemed calm, questioning himself, "My memory must've played tricks on me. Is the pain severe? Maybe Emma should take you to the clinic tomorrow."

I replied, "I've already been this morning."

"What did the doctor say?" asked Bryant.

I lowered my eyes, hesitating briefly.

The doctor had said I was five weeks pregnant. The stomach pain was due to a threatened miscarriage, advising me to take progesterone supplements and check back for the fetal heartbeat in a fortnight. Finding out about the pregnancy on our anniversary should have been the best gift.

I had hidden the pregnancy test in a small glass jar and buried it in a homemade cake, planning to surprise Bryant during our candlelit dinner.

But at the moment, that cake was still untouched in the fridge.

"It's nothing serious. Maybe I've had too many cold drinks lately." I kept it hidden for the time, thinking everything would be fine if that necklace returned the next day.

But if it didn't, our marriage would be strained by the presence of the other woman. Telling him about the baby would then seem pointless.

That night, I tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

No woman could come to terms with the possibility of her husband's infidelity.

Unexpectedly, the issue weighing on my mind soon evolved.

The next day, while Bryant was still in the bathroom, there was a knock on the door.

Just having changed, I opened it to find Emma pointing downstairs. "Mrs. Ferguson, Miss Margaret is here, saying she's returning something."

Margaret Ferguson, Bryant's step-sister from his stepmother, older by two years, was technically a Ferguson family lady.

Sent by the Ferguson family to look after us, Emma habitually referred to her as "Miss Margaret."

I was puzzled. Margaret and I hardly interacted outside family gatherings at the Ferguson Mansion, let alone exchanged belongings. "Returning something?" I was curious.

"Yes, it's in an elegant jewelry box. It looks like some jewel," Emma replied.