The Money to Her During My Pregnancy

Today is my due date. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains outside the window, casting mottled shadows across the floor, yet this warm scene brought no comfort to my heart. My belly felt heavy, as though cradling a great stone; every step was a struggle, and the dull ache in my waist and abdomen forced me to slow my pace. The living room was silent, save for the faint sound of a mobile phone's screen sliding on the sofa. Leo Clark sat on the sofa, scrolling through his mobile phone, his fingers gliding quickly across the screen, his eyes locked intently on it, unaware even as I approached him. I held a warm glass of plain water, hoping to rest my head on his shoulder for a while. Nine months pregnant, the weariness of my body and the unrest in my heart made me long all the more for his reassurance. Just as I was about to lean toward him, out of the corner of my eye I glimpsed his mobile phone screen flash, and a red notification box appeared, clearly reading "Tipping Successful 1." My heart sank suddenly, as if something had wrenched it violently, chilling me instantly to the bone. Leo Clark was famously frugal—some would even call him stingy. Every time he orders takeout, if the meal costs more than ten, he agonizes over it for a long time, repeatedly comparing discount offers. Sometimes, to save two on delivery fees, he's willing to wait an extra half hour. How could someone who pinches pennies even over ten suddenly tip someone? I fought to suppress the doubts and unease in my heart, striving to keep my tone calm: "Did you just tip someone?" His hand abruptly stopped, the scrolling motion frozen instantly. Then, he quickly slipped the mobile phone into his pocket, his gaze evasive, unwilling to meet my eyes. "No, you must be mistaken." He said this while subconsciously scratching his right temple. That gesture was like a needle piercing through the last thread of my self-comforting hope. I knew that gesture all too well; it was his tell whenever he lied. Every time he told a lie and tried to cover it up, he would unconsciously scratch his right temple. When we first got together, he did the same when he lied about secretly playing games. "I clearly saw it—a one tip, unmistakably clear." I kept my gaze fixed on his eyes, unwilling to miss a single subtle expression on his face. He hesitated for a few seconds, as if suddenly remembering something, then his tone lightened instantly, managing even a faint smile: "Oh, that! She's a cooking streamer. I found her tips quite practical, and since you'll be resting during your confinement, I thought I could learn to cook a few dishes for you, so I casually tipped her one as a gesture of thanks." He spoke confidently, but the unease swelling in my heart surged like a rising tide, nearly overwhelming me. He never cared to watch those cooking livestreams. Before, whenever I asked him to learn a few simple home-cooked dishes and show me from time to time, he always said he was too busy with work. He even claimed cooking was a woman's job—how could a grown man understand such things? So why is he suddenly interested in cooking livestreams now, even tipping the streamers of his own accord? I didn't press further; I quietly walked over to the single armchair nearby and sat down. The warmth of the cup in my hand clashed with the growing coldness deep within my heart. Lying in bed at night, the moonlight filtered softly through the window. The room was silent, except for Leo Clark's steady snoring beside me. He was already fast asleep, his face relaxed, as if the day's small incident had left no mark on his mind at all. Yet I lay awake, staring at the blurred patterns on the ceiling, that scene from the day replaying over and over in my mind. One is indeed not much, almost negligible, but his way of lying, his evasive eyes, and that familiar deceitful gesture tightened my whole body, while the doubts in my heart grew heavier and heavier. I turned over, facing away from him, the faint scent of tobacco lingering on his skin brushing against my nose. I once found that smell reassuring, but now it only filled me with estrangement and irritation. That night, I hardly closed my eyes. The unease in my heart grew wildly like vines, wrapping tightly around me, making it hard to breathe.