22
‘Mr.
An is pregnant.
That explains what Miss Thian mentioned—it all adds up now.
Toop, you’re something else for keeping this from me.
But I’m genuinely happy for you both.
As for taking Mr. An to the set.’
Before leaving, the manager sighed at Toop but smiled at me.
‘Well, it’s up to you.
I understand your concern for your wife and child, but you want to act in this film, right?
Let me talk to the production team to see if we can reschedule or film other scenes while we wait for your sympathy morning sickness to subside.’
‘I’m not experiencing sympathy morning sickness.’
The manager smiled.
Their discussion continued for some time before the manager left in the late afternoon, still delighted by the news of my pregnancy.
Before he departed, he promised to return with a variety of health supplements and gifts for me and the baby.
It seemed that this little one was already adored by everyone.
Toop, however, looked uncharacteristically pensive.
After seeing the manager off, he stood by the car for a moment, before ushering me back into the house.
According to the manager, Toop was deeply committed to his role in this film.
I might not be great at reading people, but I could see how dedicated he was.
He took his work seriously, setting aside time to rehearse and delve into his character in solitude in his office.
I liked standing quietly and watching him.
Seeing his expression brought a smile to my face.
How could I bear seeing him struggle with the work he loved, even though I was not sure if I could help him at all?
“Squeezed orange juice before bed.”
However, I still wanted to contribute, to support this man, my husband.
That night, Toop entered the bedroom holding a glass of orange juice, offering it to me.
“You- went to squeeze this yourself?”
He nodded just as I reached out to take the glass from him.
During dinner, he had seemed a bit moody, but he still cleared the dishes afterward.
I insisted on doing the washing, though he could help out, kitchen chores did not seem to be his forte.
When I had gone to shower and applied coconut oil earlier, I wondered where he had disappeared to.
Seeing him now, my worries melted into a smile as I looked at him standing by the bed.
“Thank you.”
For everything he did for me, no matter how small or significant, I could not help but express my gratitude.
It was better than the cold distance we had once endured, veiled by misunderstandings.
“But you really didn’t need to go through the trouble of squeezing it yourself.”
“It wasn’t any trouble. Besides, you’ve been feeling queasy about drinking the formula milk lately, haven’t you?”
I nodded.
Lately, that was true.
The doctor had assured me it would get better, suggesting other drinks in the meantime, like the freshly squeezed juice he had brought.
But—
“It’s bitter,”
I said, wincing after a small sip.
“I peeled the skin and removed all the seeds before putting the oranges in the juicer,”
he explained, his previously stoic face softening slightly as he leaned closer in concern when I closed my eyes.
I chuckled.
“It’s just a little bitter, but it’s still delicious.”
I raised the glass and drank, showing off a little, before glancing at him—the person who made it for me.
“Will you drink some too?”
“This is for you and the baby.”
Could I smile any wider?
Maybe, but all I did was curve my lips into a soft smile at my husband, then took another sip of the slightly sweet, tangy, and faintly bitter orange juice until the glass was empty.
However, something made me pause and look up.
“Yes?”
Toop extended his hand toward me, prompting a puzzled expression.
“I’ll take the glass to the table.”
“The table’s right here.
I can do it myself.”
“But I’m already standing.
Just hand me the glass.”
I sighed softly, resigned and handed the glass over.
He did not say anything as he placed it on the table, but I had already decided it was time to talk things out with him.
“You- haven’t been able to work properly lately.”
“The doctor said I’m just stressed.”
“But whenever you come home and see…”
I hesitated, unsure if it sounded too self-centered, but I pressed on since I had resolved to speak openly.
“…whenever you come home and see me, your symptoms seem to improve.”
“And?”
His tone turned sharper as he looked at me.
“Why are you listening to or even considering the nonsense that the manager and Thian have been spouting? They’re making things up—saying I’m experiencing ‘sympathy pregnancy symptoms’ just to have you follow me everywhere.”
That stung more than I expected.
His words left my face hot and my heart hollow.
Was he saying I was not significant enough to influence him at all?
That his apparent wellness when we were together was mere coincidence?
I found myself spiraling, wondering if Toop truly felt anything or why I keep giving myself false hope.
“But if I were there and you felt better, wouldn’t that help you with work and the production?”
“Help me?
Help the production?
And what about you and the baby?
Does this help either of you-!”
“But—”
“Stop dwelling on pointless ideas like this, Anshan.
Just focus on taking care of yourself and the baby.”
“How am I supposed to take care of myself and our baby when you’re like this!”
I snapped, standing up, my voice rising.
Toop took a step back, his eyes widening slightly.
My concern for him was driving every word.
“You went to the doctor the other day, and they said you weren’t seriously ill.
Today, the manager took you to another doctor, and they said you’re stressed.
Fine!
You’re stressed, so just rest.
Take a break from everything until you’re better.
As for me, I’ll stop inserting myself into your work.
I’ll stop fooling myself into thinking that the reason you’re like this is because you’re worried about me and the baby.
Because from the beginning, it wasn’t me you wanted.
All you ever wanted was the baby!”
“That’s not what I meant!”
“Then what did you mean, Mr. Toop?
You said it yourself.
Every single word, I’ve remembered them all, and now I’m reminded of them all over again!”
“Anshan, I— Where are you going!”
He seemed like he wanted to explain something, but my chest felt so tight, and my eyes were filled with tears that I did not want to stay and listen.
I turned to leave the room, but when he called my name, despite the heat in my tear-filled eyes, I had to take a deep breath, turn around, and grab the heartless person’s pillow from the bed, clutching tightly.
“Tonight, I’m sleeping in another room.”
“You can’t do this, Anshan.
I won’t allow it!”
“Do I have to wait for your permission for this?”
“Anshan.
Anshan!”
I did not wait to listen to him.
For a moment, before I turned to open the door, he looked genuinely surprised.
Everything between us seemed to be getting better, but that was only an illusion.
I thought that perhaps his moments of fondness indicated he understood my good intentions.
But no—ever since the kitchen conversation with the manager, Toop had shown his clear displeasure at the idea of me going to the set.
I did not want to dwell on things that would make me feel worse, especially considering the baby.
Now, as I carried his pillow into another room and locked the door behind me, I decided not to care if he knocked.
All I could do was curl up on the bed, hugging the pillow that still carried his scent.
My eyes brimmed with tears.
Yet no matter how many times we argued, my pain never felt lesser than his.
Even when I distanced myself from him, I could not stop thinking about him all night.
And Toop?
Did my awful husband even understand what I was trying to convey?
“You…”
Even though I had raised my voice at him the night before, nearly breaking down in tears, and swore to stop involving myself in his affairs, the new day arrived.
I woke up clutching his pillow and eventually stepped out to shower and change clothes.
But before I could leave the guest room, I stopped short—there he was, standing outside the door, as if he was about to knock.
I moved to shut the door, hoping to avoid facing him, but of course, Toop was faster.
“Stop avoiding me already, you blockhead,”
he said, still managing to scold me.
“I’m not blockheaded—what happened to your eyes?”
I was about to retort angrily for having him call me blockheaded when I noticed how swollen his eyes were, unlike the night before.
I instinctively started to reach out to touch his face but froze, reminding myself not to overstep anymore when it came to this man.
“It’s nothing,”
he dismissed, reaching out to grab my arm as I tried to pull away.
“Anshan.”
“I’ll stay out of your business, and you stay out of mine.”
“Don’t act like this,”
he said, his voice was devoid of anger or irritation, but how I wanted to act was my business.
“Let me go.
I need to shower.”
“Fine.”
“If it’s fine, then let me go already.”
“I’ll let you go after we talk things through.
Then we’re going out.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“And who was it that said they’d come to support me on set?”
“I-”
I stopped short, realizing that those words had indeed come from me.
But what game was Toop playing now?
“But last night, you said I couldn’t go.”
He stared at me, and after gripping my arm for a moment, he finally let go.
“I changed my mind.”
“Someone like you’re- You said that to me last night, and now this?”
“Well, if I don’t let you go, you’ll just keep sulking, sleeping in another room instead of with me.
Anshan, I don’t know what’s wrong with me since you got pregnant, but can you please not act like you did last night?
Yeah!
My eyes are swollen because I cried half the night after you walked away!”
“Huh?”
“What ‘huh’?
My eyes are this swollen, and you still don’t get it?
I tried to stop it, but I couldn’t.
And sleeping was even worse.
I didn’t sleep at all last night.
Damn it!”
Why was he like this?
I did not ask him outright, though he turned to vent at himself, running a hand through his hair.
Were his puffy eyes really from crying last night?
And he cried because of me?
Me?
’Wait in the car.
I’m going in to pick up what I ordered.’
Everything happened in a blur of confusion for me.
That morning, after he said that, Toop had quickly turned to look at me again, grabbed my arm, and led me back into the master bedroom.
He even pulled clothes out of the wardrobe while I showered, replaying our earlier conversation in my head.
Yet, when I came out and saw him lying down, icing his eyes, I was still at a loss.
As we headed out, everything that had caused my frustration the night before—what left me feeling awkward and bitter after realizing I had overstepped my boundaries as his wife and assumed my importance to him—came rushing back.
But in the end, nothing had changed.
I was not angry at him, though.
I was hurt.
If he had just softened his words a little before stepping out of the car, maybe expressed some concern instead of snapping at me and calling me ridiculous, I could have understood better.
I knew I could be demanding.
I was not better than him, nor was I more rational.
I just wanted to help him.
He kept fainting, feeling nauseated whenever we were apart, and crying until his eyes were swollen this morning.
I did not want to think he was experiencing sympathy pregnancy symptoms again.
But if it really was stressful, perhaps instead of following him to the set, Toop should see a doctor again.
Yet here he was, with his stern face, allowing me to tag along despite his insistence that I was not important.
Anshan — I want mango.
Even though I did not want to talk to him, and even after refusing to engage when he spoke to me before stepping out of the car, I could not help but text him after he had been gone for about ten minutes as I felt the crave I should not have felt.
Toop — Do you want anything else?
My eyes widened as I held the phone.
I had not expected him to reply so quickly.
Anshan — No.
Toop — Wait another ten minutes.
If you think of anything else, let me know.
He replied as such.
If this had been before our argument, I might have smiled faintly, feeling cared for by him.
But now, all I could do was reread Toop’s message over and over.
Maybe taking deep breaths was the best course of action for me at the moment.
Toop agreed to let me accompany him to the set, so I would go.
Whatever he wanted me to do, I would follow his lead.
After all, this was just an experiment to test the hypothesis shared by the manager, Thian, and myself—that if I stayed within visible range of him, Toop’s strange symptoms might subside.
But I felt shameless.
Yesterday, I had volunteered myself for this.
That was enough, was it not?
Leaning back against the seat, I stared out the car window at the door, one hand brushing over my belly through the shirt Toop had picked out for me.
I knew deep down that all he wanted was the baby.
But no matter what, this child was my joy.
So, I could not afford to sulk my days away like I used to.
“Here’s your mango.”
Just as I told myself that, the car door opened, and in walked Toop, arms full of bags.
Although startled, I tried to compose myself.
“Thank you.”
I took the bag of peeled fruits from him—it had more than just green mangoes.
There were also guava and rose apples.
As for the paper bags he placed on the back seat, I only glanced at them briefly without asking.
“The bags have supplements and things you might need while sitting at the set.”
I nodded in acknowledgment but did not say anything to him.
“And this.”
He handed me a velvet box, which made me pause in my perusal of the fruit bag.
“What is it?”
Curiosity made me look up and ask him.
It was a blue box, not too big.
“A ring.”
Toop replied, opening the lid to reveal a simple yet elegant white gold ring inside—sleek, understated, but undeniably luxurious.
“It’s pretty.”
That was all I said before returning my attention to the green mangoes, preparing to pick one up to eat.
But before I could, my hand was abruptly seized by his.
“I want to eat the mango.”
“Put the ring on first, then eat.”
“Huh? Hey, wait, Mr. Toop—”
Completely thrown off, I clenched my hand instinctively, unsure what he was trying to do.
Just last night, we had argued.
This morning, he had told me with swollen eyes that I could join him on set.
Now, before we even got there, he had stopped at the mall, and here he was, trying to slip a white gold ring onto my left ring finger?
“Why?
You’re coming to the set with me, and I’m fine with that.
But before we go, you need to wear this ring.”
“Why do I have to wear it?”
“Because you have a husband.
You have me, you fool—!”
“And what does that have to do with you putting a ring on me-!”
He stared at me with an unreadable expression, making my breathing hitch slightly.
“Or should I just tell everyone at the set that you’re coming as my wife, rather than let this ring confirm that you’re already taken and not single for anyone to ogle?”
“Are you saying- this ring is a symbol of ownership?”
Toop shrugged.
“Exactly.”
“Why?”
“Because- I already told you—I don’t like anyone meddling with my wife.
Or would you rather I introduce everyone like this: This is Anshan, my wife?”
“N-no,”
I stammered.
I did not mean never—it just was not now.
Sure, it was strange that he was not reluctant to introduce me as his wife, but we had already agreed on how to approach our situation.
Even if deep down I wanted to shout to the world that Toop Phasutha was my husband, now was not the moment.
“Then wear the ring.”
“But I already have a wedding ring,”
I countered, quickly clenching my hand tighter before he could pry it open.
“You already discarded that one.”
“What are you talking about?”
I almost believed him until he said that.
However, my left hand was held, preventing me from reaching for the mango.
Hearing that, my voice and glare turned sharp.
“If you didn’t discard it, then what’s this?
Your left hand’s been empty since the first week of our marriage.
That ring had not graced this finger since.
If you did not toss it aside, are you saying it’s just gone!”
“I didn’t discard it.
I stored it in the box on top of the wardrobe!”
Our voices rose again, clashing with frustration.
Even though neither of us wanted to shout, misunderstandings always led us here.
Anger simmered between us, erupting as it often did.
But then, as if processing my words, he stilled.
His gaze softened, blinking at me.
“And how is that different from discarding it?”
“You started it, Mr. Toop.
You took yours off two days after our wedding.”
“I took it off because I had to film a scene.”
“H-how was I supposed to know why you removed our wedding ring?”
I had no way of understanding why he took off the ring that symbolized our vows, the one given by his mother on our wedding day.
At the time, I did not yet know he did not want me.
But when he removed it so soon after, I followed suit and stored mine away.
For months, neither of us had worn a ring on our left hand.
“Anshan, you clueless fool, you— A-An.”
I wanted to argue with him, but then I sobbed.
I noticed that my shoulders were trembling.
My lips wavered, ready to quiver with unshed tears, but he cried first.
Again.
“Can you stop doing this?”
“Mr. Toop…”
“You’re-”
He broke off, setting the blue velvet box with the white gold ring onto the car console.
One hand covered his face while the other continued gripping my left hand tightly.
“My eyes hurt so much, Anshan.
Can’t you smile again?
Be happy like before?
I feel like I’m going insane just because you look like you’re about to cry.
And then suddenly, my tears just start falling on their own—I’m not even sobbing or feeling sad.”
“B-but didn’t you say it wasn’t connected?”
Both of our voices dropped to a more normal level.
I released the mangoes bag and quickly grabbed a tissue from the glove compartment and handed it to him.
He took it, wiping his face clumsily.
“I don’t know. The doctor said it might be anxiety because you’re pregnant.”
Although his tears had stopped, the corners of his eyes were still damp.
“You’re worried about the baby.”
“I already told you—I’m worried about both the baby and you-!”
I flinched at his loud voice, accompanied by a few stray tears.
The other day, when I teased him, I remembered what he said in return.
But yesterday, what he spoke, how was I supposed to feel?
It was his fault for being so tight-lipped, how pretentious.
If he was worried, could he not just say it outright?
“This time, I’m not wrong if I feel bad because of you,”
I mumbled, lowering my gaze to the mangoes in the bag.
“And did I say once that you were wrong?”
“Well—”
“Well, what?
When you’re ready to scold your husband, you do it without holding back.
But now—”
“You’re no different!”
I snapped back, glaring at him instead of the mangoes, my face tight with frustration.
Toop did not retort; he just sighed, which made me sigh in return.
“Can we start over, Anshan?”
I froze, watching him, noticing how his demeanor had calmed even though we were just yelling moments ago.
“Start over with what?”
“This,”
he said, gesturing as he reached for the ring in the velvet box.
“What we are. For now, we don’t have to announce it to the world. Forget about the wedding rings we both took off. But I bought this ring with purpose. Whether you come to the set today, just this once, or again in the future, it doesn’t matter. But…”
He trailed off, leaving me holding my breath, heart pounding harder with every second.
Then, gripping my left hand firmly, he slid the white gold ring onto my ring finger.
I wanted to yell at him after he did as he pleased, but when I looked and saw the person who seemed ready to argue until the car broke down, his intense gaze silenced me.
“From now on, I want you to wear this ring, Anshan. And from now on, I want to ask if we can try starting over—truly living as a married couple. Will you agree?”