Chapter 2: A Day of Housewife

Annie's POV

The early morning light hadn't yet breached our bedroom windows when I found myself staring at the ceiling, my body heavy against the headboard. Philip's steady breathing beside me felt like a metronome counting down the minutes until dawn. My skin still tingled from his touch hours before, but my mind refused to quiet. It just didn’t feel right. Was he lying? Enough. Enough of questions like this. I told myself.

The clock on my nightstand blinked 6:30 AM. A sleepless night was completed.

I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Philip. The floors were cold against my bare feet as I made my way to the kitchen. The morning routine beckoned – Brian's gluten-free breakfast wouldn't prepare itself. His food allergies didn't care about my emotional exhaustion or the growing chasm in our family.

After washing up, I had settled into the familiar rhythm of morning preparation. The organic smoothie ingredients lined up like soldiers on the pristine countertop: frozen berries, spinach, the special protein powder that didn't upset Brian's stomach. The gluten-free pancake mix waited nearby, along with the non-dairy butter that actually tasted decent.

I pulled out my phone, adding items to my grocery store shopping list while the first pancake sizzled. Philip's dry cleaning needed pickup. The gynecologist appointment at 4:00 PM loomed in my calendar – a routine check-up that suddenly felt loaded with new significance after last night.

The sound of small feet padding down the hallway announced Brian's arrival. "Morning, sweetheart," I called out, sliding a perfectly golden pancake onto his favorite dinosaur plate. "I made your special–"

"Did you delete Sarah and disband my family group?" His voice trembled with accusation.

The spatula clattered against the counter. "No, sweetheart."

"Who else would do it?" Tears welled in his eyes. "No wonder she says Daddy doesn't like you!"

My heart stuttered. "What do you mean?"

"Daddy likes Sarah! He told me he's liked her since college!" Brian's small fists clenched. "You're just mean and boring and make me eat stupid food!"

Before I could react, he grabbed his plate and hurled it across the room. The ceramic dinosaur shattered against the wall, pieces of gluten-free pancake sliding to the floor like fallen stars. The organic smoothie followed, purple liquid exploding across our cream-colored cabinets.

Philip appeared in the doorway, his CEO persona already firmly in place despite the early hour. "What's going on here?"

"Mommy deleted Sarah!" Brian ran to Philip, wrapping his arms around his father's legs. "She ruined everything!"

I watched my husband's face, searching for any crack in his perfect mask. "Brian, buddy," he soothed, patting our son's head, "sometimes grown-ups need to make difficult decisions."

"But you said you liked Sarah better! You said–"

"That's enough, Brian." Philip's voice carried just enough edge to silence our son. "Why don't you go get dressed for school?"

After Brian stomped away, Philip straightened his tie. "I'll handle this," he said, not meeting my eyes. "You should start your day – don't you have errands to run?"

That was the end of morning I guessed. Yet the morning told me that was just the start.

Traffic snarled hopelessly around Philip's dry cleaner on 86th Street where I watched the minutes tick by on my dashboard clock, knowing his suit needed to be ready for tomorrow's board meeting. The cab driver in front of me laid on his horn as if that would magically clear the gridlock. My head throbbed.

The line at Whole Foods stretched endlessly, each person ahead of me seeming to have a cart overflowing with items to debate with the cashier. I clutched my basket of Brian's special gluten-free items, fighting to keep my eyes open. The fluorescent lights were too bright, making my fatigue-induced headache worse. A baby wailed somewhere in the store, the sound piercing through my skull.

After a lunch that was way past my usual lunchtime, I trudged back to our apartment at around 2 PM.

Usually, I would do some painting at this time to enjoy my quiet afternoon. But today, I just wanted to head straight to the bedroom, where my cozy bed awaited. I could definitely use a nap even for just a few hours before my appointment with my gynecologist at 4:00 PM.

However, as I walked past Philip's home office, something made me pause in the doorway. I saw a photo on his desk. I walked in.

Sarah, younger but unmistakable, laughing on what looked like a college campus. Behind it, folded letters that made my hands shake as I read:

"Sarah, despite how you hurt me at college, I can forgive you. Say the word and I'll call off the wedding with Annie."

Her response was shorter: "I'm content with my life now. Please don't contact me again."

The words blurred as tears threatened to fall. My knees felt weak, and I gripped the edge of his desk to steady myself.

My phone buzzed. Philip's voice came through, rushed and businesslike:

"Annie, I need you to pick up Brian from school today. Something urgent came up – an emergency board meeting."

"What about the ph—" I started, but he cut me off.

"I really can't talk right now. You'll handle it, right?"

The familiar pattern of him delegating parental duties while claiming "important business" suddenly took on a new, bitter meaning.

"Okay," I managed, the word barely a whisper. But he had already hung up.

I thought he loved to pick up Brian too much to let me do it once.

And my nap could wait of course. A mother was a full-time job. At least I could go straight to my gynecologist after that, I said to myself.

At around 3 PM, before the entrance of Brian's school, Several parents were already waiting at the entrance when I arrived.

The electric gates opened, and teachers carefully checked parent names before releasing each child.

"Brian!" the teacher called. "Is Brian's parent here?"

"Yes!" I stepped forward, but another voice joined mine.

I turned to find Sarah – the woman on the photos – standing there in her red dress, makeup perfect and smile radiant. "Hello, I'm Brian's parent," she said confidently.

The teacher looked at me suspiciously and said to Sarah as if they had seen multiple times, "Ms. Johnson, do you know this woman?"

My blood ran cold. They thought Sarah was Brian's mother?

Sarah extended her hand toward my son. "Brian, come here. Do you know this lady?"

Brian walked to Sarah's side, gripping her hand while staring at me with unfamiliar eyes. After a long pause, he shook his head. "Mommy, I don't know her!"

The world spun as tears filled my eyes. Sarah maintained her polished smile. "Perhaps this woman has confused Brian with someone else."

"I haven't confused anyone," I wiped my tears. "Brian, come here!"

"No!" He hid behind Sarah. "You're not my mom."

The teacher stepped forward protectively. "Should we call the police?"

Sarah nodded. "Just to be safe."

But I couldn't stop myself. "Brian, I'm your mother!"

"No, you're not!" Brian pressed himself against Sarah. "She's my mommy!"

A cold voice cut through. "Call the police now."