Too Late To Buy Me Back

At a dinner party with friends, someone leaned over, tapped my wife Ericas shoulder, and asked:

Erica, a gorgeous woman like you must have had a one that got away back in college, right?

Erica smiled, reaching over to adjust the collar of my shirt.

No, I only have eyes for my husband.

The words had barely left her mouth when Brody Crawford, her best friend sitting right next to her, burst out laughing.

Maybe not a one that got away, Brody smirked, resting his chin in his hand and casting a smug wink in my direction. But definitely a dirty little secret.

Dont look so tense, Luke. Im talking about the old days. Erica was quite the wild child back then. Dragged me to every backseat and cheap motel in town. Nearly ran me ragged.

Someone gasped, and the private dining room erupted into a roar of laughter.

But Brody wasnt done. He took a slow sip of his drink and twisted the knife:

With us, it wasnt some sweet, innocent puppy love. It was dirty. Heavy. The kind of stuff you keep in the dark because its too good to share.

He raised his glass to me, a thin smile playing on his lips.

Dont take it personally, man. Just guys joking around. Its all in the past.

Besides, if we still had something going on, we wouldnt be saying this on the exact night you guys announced the pregnancy, right?

The air in the room froze.

Someone recovered quickly and raised a glass to smooth things over.

Hey, come on, who didn't have some wild, reckless years when they were young?

Its all in the past, lets not dig up old history.

Besides, look at how good Erica is to Luke now. No matter how busy she is with work, she always makes it home. She gives him her cards to spend, drives him around, and now that shes pregnant, shes got the whole household running like clockwork.

Another person chimed in:

Exactly, women like Erica are hard to find these days. Brodys just got a big mouth and loves a joke. Don't take it to heart, Luke.

The room filled up with noise againlaughter, clinking glasses, a blur of voices.

As if the last few minutes had truly been nothing more than a harmless joke.

I smiled along, too, though my fingertips were slowly turning ice-cold.

They weren't wrong.

Erica was good to me. She was polite, attentive, and utterly flawless on paper.

She bought me designer watches for our anniversaries, hired the best private doctors whenever I fell ill, and kept me showered with gifts and clothes.

But in bed, Erica was always as cold and detached as if she were executing a task.

It was always the same rhythm, the same positions, the same heavy silence.

No kissing. No sweet talk. No eye contact.

From beginning to end, she barely made a sound, her breathing so controlled it felt like she was presiding over a board meeting.

When it was over, she would immediately get up and take a shower, her departing back sharp and efficient. She never once asked how it felt.

At first, I thought she was just naturally reserved.

Then, I thought I wasn't good enough.

I had tried so many times.

I bought shirts I thought shed like, practiced clumsy, affectionate gestures Id copy from movies, and on the nights she came home late from the office, I would wrap my arms around her with a flushed face.

But she would only frown and gently push my hands away.

Stop it, Luke. Ive had a long day. Just be good.

Once, I gathered my courage, put on a new cologne, and wore the specific suit she had once complimented.

She didnt even look. She simply tossed her coat onto the sofa, her voice flat.

Don't wear that again. It doesn't suit you.

It doesn't suit you.

That night, I stood alone in the bathroom, washing the styling gel out of my hair under the running water, suddenly feeling like a pathetic clown.

And now, Brody was leaning in close to her, laughing as he described how thrilling they used to be.

Erica merely muttered, That's enough, but she didn't deny a single word.

I finally understood. She wasnt naturally cold.

She had simply given her passion to someone else, leaving only her polite obligation for me.

Honey?

Erica suddenly called my name, handing me a glass of warm water.

You look pale. Don't overthink it, he's just drunk and talking nonsense.

I took the glass, feeling the warmth radiating through the glass.

It was warm.

But it couldn't reach my chest.

I looked up into her eyes and asked softly, Erica, have you ever actually loved me?

She froze, her mouth parting slightly.

Before she could speak, Brody laughed from beside her, lazily swirling his drink.

Hey, Luke, that's a pretty depressing question to ask.

Come on, she gave you her name, and she's carrying your kid. Isn't that enough?

After all, this high-and-mighty heiress slept in my bed for years, and she never once gave me a title.

I looked at him, and suddenly, a smile crept onto my face.

You're right, I said.

A title. It really should be enough.

Only, from this moment on,

I didn't want it anymore.

On the way back, the car was silent except for the rhythmic thud of the windshield wipers clearing the rain.

Erica gripped the steering wheel, and only after a long while did she speak.

Don't take Brodys words to heart.

It was just stupid stuff from when we were kids. He doesn't know when to shut up.

She paused, her tone carrying the patient, patronizing weight of someone appeasing a petulant child.

Youre the one I married, and this is our baby. Isn't that enough?

I stared out the window at the passing neon lights, my nails digging into the palms of my hands.

So you think I should be grateful?

Ericas brow furrowed.

You're being overly emotional tonight. Lets just go home and get some rest.

Back at the house, she slipped off her coat, went to pour some water, washed her hands, and checked her phone, exactly as she did every other night.

She was so calm, as if the humiliation in that dining room had never happened.

I stood at the bedroom door, my throat tightening.

In that moment, a desperate urge took over. I needed to know if she truly felt nothing for me, or if she simply didn't want me.

Gritting my teeth, I unbuttoned my collar and walked over to her.

My fingers trembled, but I reached out and pulled her into my arms.

Erica...

Look at me.

Her body went rigid for a second, and then she pushed me away.

There was no desire in her eyes, no spark. Just exhaustion and a thin veneer of irritation.

She picked up my jacket from the chair and draped it over my shoulders, her voice cool and detached.

Stop acting up.

My eyes stung instantly.

You're three months along. The doctor said during the stable second trimester, we could...

I'm not acting up. I just want to know if you still want me.

Erica looked at me, her expression hardening.

Luke, are you really that desperate?

The words felt like a physical slap across my face.

I froze, my breath shaking in my chest.

But she had already turned around, grabbed her keys, and walked out.

The front door slammed shut.

The entire house was dead silent, leaving me alone with the ruins of my dignity.

I sat on the edge of the bed, tears silently spilling onto the backs of my hands.

Half an hour later, my phone lit up with a notification.

Brody had posted on his Instagram.

The picture showed a womans wrist resting on a steering wheel. Around her wrist was the custom tennis bracelet I had bought for Erica.

The caption read:

"Someone got mad at me for running my mouth when Im drunk."

"But she still showed up in the middle of the night anyway."

In the comments, he added another line:

"Back when we were broke college students, we tried it everywhere. Except in this car."

"Looks like we're unlocking a new level tonight."

I stared at those words, and a sudden laugh escaped my throat.

But as I laughed, the tears only fell harder.

So that was what she meant by "don't overthink it."

She wanted me to stay home and keep up appearances, while she went to him to let her true feelings run wild.

I wiped my face, opened my family group chat, and typed out a message.

Dad, Mom, please get a lawyer ready for me.

I don't want the baby, and I'm getting a divorce.

Almost immediately, my father called. His voice was heavy, steady, and cold.

You've finally woken up?

Your mother and I never liked her for you.

The Porter family has a pedigree, sure. But she was spoiled, and she kept that pathetic 'best friend' of hers on a leash. A woman like that doesn't have the character to build a stable marriage.

We only stood back because you loved her.

But waking up now is better than never.

My mother took the phone from him, her voice filled with a mix of heartbreak and resolve.

I'll have someone pick you up first thing tomorrow morning, sweetie.

The divorce attorney is already on his way.

As for the baby... I know it hurts. But if that child is born, you and Erica will be tied together forever. It's better to cut this off completely. Trust me, its a blessing in disguise.

The next morning, the sound of the front door unlocking woke me.

Erica walked in carrying a bakery box. Her expression was uncharacteristically gentle.

You're awake? I bought you some cake.

She slid the box across the table toward me, her tone like she was coaxing a child.

Isn't this your favorite place?

I looked down. Mango mousse.

My stomach instantly turned.

I am severely allergic to mangoes. If I eat them, my throat swells up and I can barely breathe.

I stared at the mango mousse, and a flood of sharp, agonizing memories rushed back.

Brody doesn't eat onions. She always remembered. Every time she ordered food, shed specify: No onions in his, please.

Brody gets acid reflux from iced Americanos. She remembered. On rainy days, shed pre-order a hot latte for him with half the sugar.

Brodys flight landing at 1:20 AM. She remembered. I had seen the reminders on her phone more than once:

"Brody lands at 1:20. Cold front coming. Remind him to grab a jacket."

They were precise to the minute.

But my life-threatening mango allergy? We had been married for three years, and she still forgot.

Seeing my expression sour, Erica froze, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face.

I... I grabbed the wrong one.

She quickly reached into her designer bag and pulled out another box, eager to fix it.

Look at this instead. I picked it up when I walked past the boutique today.

You said you liked this watch before.

She opened the box to reveal a beautiful luxury watch. It was indeed the one I had admired for a long time.

If this were before, I probably would have teared up and forgiven her.

But now, all I felt was a profound, suffocating exhaustion.

I pushed the box back toward her.

Just leave it.

Erica frowned. Are we still doing this?

I didn't answer. I picked up my phone.

As soon as the screen lit up, notifications from our old college group chat started flooding in.

The group was still called The Crew. Chelsea had posted a series of photos.

A mans dress shirt, a womans skirt, and black lace underwear were scattered all over a hardwood floor.

The group chat was losing its mind.

Holy shit, Brody, who was it last night?

That looks intense.

Give us details! How many rounds?

Brody replied lazily: No comment. Let's just say she nearly killed me.

Usually acts so prim and proper, but she knows exactly what she's doing when the lights go out.

A string of suggestive emojis followed.

Then, Brody sent another text:

@Erica, you home yet?

Did your hubby like the watch I picked out for him?

My fingers went completely cold as I read the screen.

Even the apology gift was picked out by Brody.

Right beside me, Erica's phone buzzed. She glanced at it, her face going pale, and she lunged to grab my phone.

But I was faster. I locked the screen and looked up at her.

I haven't even asked you anything yet. No need to panic.

Erica's hand froze in midair, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.

Don't overthink this.

What happened between Brody and me... it's ancient history.

Once the baby is born, I'll take you on a trip. Just the two of us. Didn't you always want to go to Iceland to see the Northern Lights?

Besides, if there was really anything going on between us, we would've ended up together years ago. Why would I have married you?

She reached out to take my hand, but I gently pulled back.

I looked at her and let out a small, tired laugh.

Yeah. You're right.

Erica blinked, assuming she had successfully pacified me. Her shoulders relaxed.

Exactly. Stop overanalyzing everything.

Brody just has a big mouth and no filter. Don't let him get under your skin.

I nodded, my voice completely flat.

It doesn't matter to me anymore anyway.

Erica's eyes narrowed slightly, clearly taking my words as a childish tantrum.

She checked her watch and grabbed her keys.

Alright, stop sulking. I have a meeting this afternoon. I'll be back to take you out for dinner tonight.

The moment the door clicked shut, silence flooded the apartment.

I stared at the mango mousse on the table, picked up my phone, and texted my attorney:

You can start the process now.

At three that afternoon, I sat in a consultation room at the clinic.

The afternoon sun streamed through the window, sharp and blinding.

The doctor reviewed my file, then looked up at me with a calm, professional demeanor.

Mr. Davis, a termination of pregnancy must be authorized by the patient herself.

As her husband, you can accompany her and sign certain auxiliary documents, but you cannot make this decision for her.

I nodded.

I knew that before I even walked in.

It was Erica's body. No matter how much I resented her, no matter how much I wanted to sever our ties, I had no right to make that choice for her.

But I had to come.

I needed to hear it officially to snuff out the very last ember of hope in my chest.

The doctor pushed the paperwork back to me, softening her voice.

If this is a marital issue, I suggest you resolve things between yourselves first. A child shouldn't be used as leverage in an argument.

I looked down, my fingers clenching into fists.

I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I just knew that if this child was born, Erica and I would be bound together for the rest of our lives.

My phone buzzed on the table.

It was a text from Erica:

Honey, I just picked out a beautiful gold heirloom rattle for the baby.

It's so beautifully crafted. Our little one is going to love it.

I stared at the screen, my vision blurring.

I suddenly remembered the day we found out she was pregnant.

When she saw the positive test, she had frozen for a second, and then her eyes welled up.

She had thrown her arms around me, laughing like a little girl in the middle of our living room.

I'm going to be a mom? Luke, I'm going to be a mom!

She had spent that night talking endlessly against my shoulder.

She wanted to paint the nursery light blue, or maybe a soft yellow.

She wanted me to choose the name.

She promised that no matter how demanding work got, she would always make it home for dinner with us.

Back then, I believed every word.

I thought this baby would finally warm up the cold spaces between us.

But now, the very same woman was texting me about baby toys while spending her nights playing games with Brody.

Devotion and betrayal could coexist on the exact same face.

I locked my phone and looked up at the doctor.

Thank you, I said softly. I understand.

When I stepped out of the hospital, my attorney was waiting by his car.

He handed me the prepared draft.

Mr. Davis, the agreement states that if Mrs. Davis chooses to carry the pregnancy to term, custody, visitation, child support, and asset division will be handled under separate clauses.

But as we discussed, you cannot legally force a termination.

I took the papers. They felt light, but they weighed a ton.

Then let's proceed with the divorce first.

We'll handle the baby according to the law.

The lawyer nodded. Understood.

When I got home that evening, the sound of familiar laughter hit me the moment I unlocked the door.

Brody was sitting on our sofa, and Erica was pouring him a cup of tea.

Seeing me, Brody immediately stood up. His eyes looked watery, his tone dripping with mock remorse.

Luke, hey. You're back.

Look, about last night... I drank way too much and was talking nonsense. Please don't take it personally.

He took a couple of steps toward me, putting on a show of a sincere apology.

Erica and I have just been messing around since we were kids. We have no boundaries. I'm stupid.

She's pregnant, and I know you're probably feeling sensitive right now. I get it.

I'll back off from now on. I don't want to cause any more misunderstandings.

The words sounded like an apology, but the poison was baked into every syllable.

He was painting me as the paranoid, oversensitive husband.

Erica chimed in, her voice firm.

See? I told you it was a misunderstanding.

We need to focus on our future and raising this baby. That's what matters.

You're going to be a father, Luke. Stop letting your insecurities get the better of you.

I leaned against the entryway, my face pale. Even raising my hand felt like a monumental effort.

Brody spotted the hospital paperwork in my hand and gasped with theatrical concern.

Geez, Luke, you look awful. You didn't go to the hospital to get yourself worked up over nothing, did you?

Come on, man, don't be so fragile.

Erica is carrying your kid. Don't use the baby to punish her.

I slowly raised my hand, waving him off.

Save the performance.

The living room went dead silent.

I looked directly at Erica, delivering each word with quiet precision.

I don't want this baby anymore.

Erica's face froze.

What did you say?

Before she could react, my attorney stepped into the room behind me, holding out a folder.

The document was clear, bold, and undeniable.

Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

The lawyer spoke calmly.

Mrs. Davis, this is the divorce petition drafted by Mr. Davis. Please review it.

Regarding the unborn child, the terms specify that if you choose to proceed with the pregnancy, Mr. Davis will fulfill his legal financial obligations.

But he is ending this marriage.