Free At Last

My best friends sons eyes are identical to my husbands. I was holding little Alex, who is three, and watching him laugh. The curve of his smile, the shape of his eyes, even the way they crinkled I froze.

Godmother, whats wrong? I heard my own voice tremble.

Nothing, I said, putting the child down. I watched him run towards Sarah.

Sarah. My best friend of twenty years.

She picked up Alex and smiled at me. Look how much he loves his godmother.

I smiled back. But my palms were drenched in sweat.

1.

Sarah and I have been classmates since middle school. Twenty whole years, from the age of thirteen until now. She was my bridesmaid when I got married. When she suffered a postpartum hemorrhage, I was the first to rush to the hospital. Three years ago, she suddenly told me she was pregnant.

Whose?

She just smiled, saying nothing.

Youre not going to tell me?

It doesnt matter, she said, touching her belly. I can raise him myself.

At the time, I thought she was so cool. A single mother, an independent woman. I helped her find the best obstetrician. I accompanied her to every prenatal check-up. When she had morning sickness, I made her porridge. On the day she went into labor, I was with her in the delivery room.

Ill definitely pay you back when I have money, she said from her hospital bed, gripping my hand.

Dont be silly, I laughed. What kind of relationship do we have?

She cried. Youre the best friend Ill ever have.

I cried too. I believed her.

During her month of postpartum confinement, I was at her house almost every day. Cooking soup, cleaning the room, washing the babys diapers. My husband, Harold, said I was too devoted. She has family, doesnt she?

Her parents arent local, and shes all alone. If I dont help her, who will?

Harold didnt say anything more. On the day of Alexs full-month celebration, I gave a set of gold locks and bracelets, worth over thirty thousand. Sarah held the baby, prompting him to call me. Say Godmother.

Little Alex babbled, drool running down his chin. I took him, my heart melting completely. Godmother will buy you delicious food, toys, and send you to school. Sarah stood by, her eyes curved in a smile. Youre better to him than his own mother. At the time, I thought this was the most genuine friendship in the world.

When Alex was one, Sarah moved. The new apartment complex was very close to my house, a ten-minute walk. This way, its easier for you to see Alex, she said. I didnt think much of it. Sometimes, when Sarah worked late, shed drop Alex off at my house. Harold initially found it annoying. Again?

Just a few hours, can you watch him for me?

Later, he stopped complaining. He even started asking, Alex isnt coming today? I said, Sarah isnt working late today. He oh-ed and looked down at his phone.

Now that I think about it, was he chatting with her then?

For Alexs second birthday, I gave him a big red envelope. At two and a half, I enrolled him in an early childhood education class, eighteen thousand. Sarah said she felt bad, but I said it was fine. Its not easy raising a child alone; Ill help you. She looked at me, her eyes red. I dont know how to thank you.

Dont say such things. I was sincere.

I didnt have children. Five years of marriage, and I still couldnt conceive. Harold said not to rush, let nature take its course. My mother-in-laws expression grew worse and worse, but she didnt say anything to my face. Alex, in a way, filled that void for me. I loved him as if he were my own son.

But I didnt know he might actually be my husbands own son.

The change started when he turned three. One day, I went to Sarahs house to pick up Alex. He was eating watermelon. Red juice ran down his chin. He looked up and smiled at me. I froze. That smile. Those crinkling eyes. That unconscious head tilt. Exactly like Harold.

I told myself then: Youre overthinking it. All kids look somewhat alike. But from that day on, I couldnt help but observe. Alexs ears. Harolds ears had that same shape, with a little point at the top. Alexs fingers. Slender and long, just like Harolds. Alex would purse his lips when he was angry. Harold did too.

Once was a coincidence. Twice was a coincidence. What about three, four, five times? I started losing sleep. That night, I lay in bed, tossing and turning. Harold was already asleep. I looked at his profile, suddenly feeling like he was a stranger. I quietly picked up his phone. His phone was never password-protected; we had agreed on mutual trust.

I opened WeChat and found Sarahs chat. The most recent messages were from three days ago. Alex has a cold, do you have time to come see him? Okay, tomorrow. That was it. Ordinary. I scrolled back further. All everyday conversations. No flirtation, nothing suspicious. I breathed a sigh of relief. I must be overthinking. It had to be.

The next day, Sarah called. Lily, Alex misses you. Coming over for dinner today?

Okay. I hung up and saw Harold standing at the door.

Going to Sarahs?

Yes.

Ill come too, he said. I can bring Alex a toy.

He used to find it annoying, and now hes volunteering? I looked at him, saying nothing. He smiled. Whats wrong?

Nothing. I averted my gaze. Telling myself: Dont be paranoid.

During dinner, Alex sat next to Harold. Harold served him food, wiped his mouth. Uncle Harold is so nice, Alex said. Sarah laughed. Harold cares more about Alex than you, his godmother. Harold said, Kids are always likable. I ate silently, my head down. But my eyes were constantly watching. Watching Harold serve food. Watching Alex eat. Watching their profiles side by side.

Similar. They were so similar.

Sarah suddenly spoke, Lily, whats wrong? You dont look so good.

Nothing, just a little tired. She looked at me with concern. Maybe you should go home and rest?

No, Im fine. I smiled. But inside, a storm was brewing.

On the way home, I asked Harold, How long have you known Sarah? He paused. Through you, about six years now.

Do you two contact each other often?

Not much, just when she asks me to help fix her computer or something.

Youre really good to Alex.

He smiled. That kid is charming. I didnt say anything else.

After getting home, he went to shower. I sat on the sofa, staring at the wall, lost in thought. Fix computer. Did Sarah ever ask him to fix her computer? Why dont I know about that? That night, I couldnt sleep. At three in the morning, I got up and took Harolds phone again. This time, I searched more thoroughly.

No WeChat messages. No texts. Call history I froze. The call history with Sarah. More than I expected. At least three or four times a week. Sometimes ten minutes, sometimes half an hour. But it didnt show up on WeChat because they only sent voice messages, never typed. I put the phone back, lay back in bed, and stared at the ceiling until dawn.

2.

I started paying attention to more details. That photo of Alex at 100 days old at Sarahs house. I leaned in, looking at his eyebrows. Thick brows, connected in the middle. Harold had them too. And that dimple. On his left cheek, appearing only when he smiled. Harold had one too. I asked Sarah, Whose dimple does Alex have? She paused, then smiled. I dont know, maybe his dads.

His dad has a dimple?

I dont remember, she said. Its been too long since we broke up. I stared at her face for a few seconds. Her smile froze for a moment. Then quickly returned to normal. Oh, by the way, can you check Alexs foot? Is it a bit flat-footed? The topic was changed. But I remembered that frozen moment.

After that, I started accidentally looking through Harolds things. His computer. His drawers. His bank statements. Then I found a transfer. Five thousand every month, on a fixed date, transferred to an unfamiliar account.

Whats this? I asked him. He glanced at it, his expression unchanged. Helping a friend out. He said hed pay me back in installments.

Which friend?

You dont know him.

I didnt ask any more questions. But I noted down the account. That night, I used my own channels to check. Account holder: Sarah. My hands were trembling. Five thousand every month. Transferred for three years. Three years, thirty-six months, one hundred and eighty thousand. I never knew. He was transferring money to her, behind my back. Why? Helping a friend out? Was she his friend? Or my friend?

I took a deep breath. Told myself to calm down. I couldnt be sure yet. Maybe it really was just a loan. Maybe Sarah was having difficulties and was too embarrassed to ask me. Maybe But why hide it from me?

The next day, I asked Sarah out for coffee. Are you tight on money lately?

Im okay, she smiled. Why?

If you need money, you can tell me.

No, no, she waved her hand. I have enough.

Really?

Really. She looked at me. Lily, whats wrong with you today?

Nothing, I smiled. Just worried about you.

Silly girl. She squeezed my hand. With you as my best friend, what do I have to fear?

Her hand was warm. Her eyes were sincere. I almost believed her. But one hundred and eighty thousand. She said she had enough. Then where did Harolds money go?

I started checking more things. Harolds schedule. He said he had a business trip this weekend, and I said okay. But I didnt tell him I had put a tracker on his car. That weekend, the tracker showed him in the city center. Not the city of his business trip. But a hotel. A five-star one, very close to Sarahs house. I sat at home, watching the little dot on my phone. He stayed there for three hours. Then he came home.

How was the business trip? I asked him.

It was alright, a bit tiring, he yawned. Im going to shower first. I watched his back. Business trip. A bit tiring. What made you so tired?

That night, after he fell asleep, I took his phone again. This time, I found a hidden album. It required a password. I tried his birthday, incorrect. Our wedding anniversary, incorrect. His mothers birthday, incorrect. Finally, I tried Alexs birthday. It opened. Inside were just a few photos. Sarahs. Selfies, candid shots. And one photo of the two of them together. The background was a hotel room. Sarah leaned on his shoulder, smiling sweetly. The date was in the bottom right corner. Two years ago.

I put the phone back. Walked out onto the balcony. It was dark outside; I couldnt see any stars. I stood there for a long time. I didnt cry. I couldnt cry. I just felt cold. Cold from the inside out. My best friend of twenty years. My husband of five years. The two people I trusted most. Had been betraying me all along.

I remembered what Sarah had said. Youre the best friend Ill ever have. I remembered what Harold had said. We agreed to trust each other. So laughable.

3.

The next day, I didn't say a word. I made breakfast as usual, and saw Harold off as usual. "What do you want for dinner tonight?" I asked him. "Whatever, you decide," he kissed my forehead. "My hardworking wife." I smiled. Watched him drive away. Then I closed the door, leaning against the wall. Every breath hurt. But I told myself: It's not enough yet.

Photos can be faked. I needed more definite proof. I made a decision. A DNA test. Sarah had called saying Alex had a cold, so I offered to visit. I brought toys, fruit, and a cotton swab. "Let me see Alex's throat." Sarah didn't think much of it and brought the child over. I took the opportunity when she turned to get water to swab inside Alex's mouth with the cotton swab. "What's Godmother doing?" "Checking if you have any inflammation," I said, smiling. "Nothing, you're very healthy." Alex grinned. I put the cotton swab in a bag and tucked it into my pocket.

Harold's sample was easier to get. His razor. His toothbrush. His hair on the pillow. I collected enough samples and sent them to a testing agency. "It should take about a week," the staff said. "Okay, I'll wait."

A week. Seven days. For these seven days, I had to pretend I knew nothing. These seven days passed slowly. Every day, I cooked, went to work, and talked to Harold as usual. He didn't notice anything unusual. Because I was acting very well. Or rather, he simply didn't care.

That Thursday, he said he had another business trip this weekend. "Where are you going this time?" "Shanghai, to meet a client." "How many days will you be gone?" "Two days, I think." I nodded, saying nothing. But I knew he wouldn't be going to Shanghai. He would be going to that hotel.

Friday evening, Sarah called. "Lily, come over for dinner this weekend, I'm making dumplings." "Okay." "What about Harold? Tell him to come too." "He's on a business trip." Silence on the other end of the phone for a second. "Oh, then just come by yourself." I hung up. Business trip. They think I don't know. They think I'm still that fool.

Saturday, I didn't go to Sarah's house. I went to that hotel. I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I sat in the lobby for two hours, then I saw them walk in together. Harold had his arm around Sarah's waist. Sarah leaned on his shoulder. Both were laughing and chatting. Like an ordinary couple. No, like an ordinary married couple. My phone captured the scene. Then I left. I didn't rush up to them. I didn't make a scene. Because it wasn't time yet.

Sunday evening, Harold returned from his "business trip." "Are you tired?" I asked him. "Not really," he put down his luggage. "The client was difficult; it took two days to finalize." "That sounds tough." "My wife is so thoughtful." He smiled and kissed me. I smiled too. I let him kiss me.

Then I said, "Promise me something."

"What?"

"You and Sarah..." His body noticeably stiffened.

"You and Sarah should limit your contact from now on," I said. "I don't really like you two being too close." He breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. "You're overthinking it. What could possibly be going on between us? She's your best friend, and I'm just helping out."

"Really?"

"Really." He looked into my eyes. "Wife, have you been too tired lately? You're being paranoid."

I looked into his eyes. Those eyes that once made me feel so secure. Now I just found them disgusting. "Maybe," I said. "I'm just overthinking." He hugged me. "Silly girl, how could I ever do anything to betray you?" I leaned on his shoulder. Closed my eyes. Okay. I'll give you one more chance. If the DNA results are negative, I'll pretend nothing happened. If they're positive...

4.

A week later, the results were out. I went to pick up the report alone. The staff handed me an envelope. "Read it yourself or shall I read it to you?" "I'll read it myself."

I opened the envelope. My hand was trembling. My eyes found the line of text. "Probability of paternity: 99.9999%." "Conclusion: Supports Harold as the biological father of Alex." I stared at those words for a long time. Then I folded the report and put it in my bag. Walking out of the testing center, the sunlight was blinding. I stood by the roadside, and suddenly I laughed.

99.9999%. Biological father. I helped her during her confinement. I bought gold locks for the child. I spent twenty thousand to enroll the child in early education. I loved him as if he were my own son. It turns out, he really was my husbands own son.

I didnt go home. I found a coffee shop and sat there all afternoon, sorting through everything. Alex is three. Theyve been together for at least three years. Maybe longer. Harold and I have been married for five years. Which means from the very beginning of our marriage, he was betraying me?

I remembered what he said when he proposed. I will only love you in this life. I remembered what Sarah said when she was my bridesmaid. Lily, you must be happy. Happy. She slept with my husband and wanted me to be happy. What a huge joke.

When I got home that evening, Harold was already there. "Where were you? You didn't answer your phone." "Shopping with colleagues; my phone died." "Oh." He breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought something happened." Something happened? Something big happened. I looked at him and smiled. "Nothing, just shopped for too long." "Are you hungry? I ordered takeout." "Yes, I'm hungry." I sat down to eat, chatted with him, and watched TV. As usual. Nothing changed. Only my heart had grown cold.

Over the next few days, I continued to gather evidence. I found their chat history. Harold had replaced his phone once, but he had a habit of backing things up. I found all their chat records in his cloud drive. Starting from four years ago.

"Miss you."

"Me too."

"When can we be openly together?"

"When the time is right."

"Alex called me 'Daddy' today."

"Really? Send me the video."

I read them one by one. My hands were shaking. So they had planned it all along. Waiting for the "time to be right." What time? For me to die? Or for them to save enough money to run away?

There were also transfer records. Besides the five thousand a month, there were others. Money for the child's formula, toys, early education fees. Some I paid, some he paid. The two of us, together, raising his illegitimate child. I remembered one time, Sarah said she was short on cash and wanted to borrow money from me. I transferred twenty thousand to her. She said she'd pay it back when she got paid. And she did. But that month, Harold also transferred twenty thousand to her. She used Harold's money to pay off her debt to me. What a well-played game.

I compiled all the evidence. The DNA report. Screenshots of chat records. Transfer records. Hotel photos. Hotel stay recordswhich I had someone pull. Three years, they booked rooms 87 times. 87 times. An average of two to three times a month. I calculated, it was probably when I was on business trips, when I was working overtime, when I thought he was also working overtime. I printed all these out, bound them. Two copies. One for Harold. One for Sarah.