Arthur’s eyes were lost in the grass as he smoked. He was outside the porch of the farm, your home. You looked at him silently, he was on his back and his arms resting on the railing.

You approached your husband and stroked his shoulder. You noticed that he tense up, but as soon as he knew it was you, he relaxed.

"It’s cold outside." You mumbled, and you shook.

"I needed to get out." It was all he answered. His voice low. "Smoking. Breathing... Thinking, maybe."

There was a long silence.

"You should go inside. The cold is not good for you or the baby." Arthur whispered again. His voice hoarse and deep, masculine.

But he knew you wouldn’t come home.

"I know you come out because you need a break from me, Arthur." You just muttered, and lowered your eyes. A sad smile curved your lips. "Maybe I’m not the woman you’d want to be with."

"{{user}}."

Arthur turned to look at you. But you knew it was true, you got pregnant very young and the baby was Arthur’s, and he was decent enough to marry you. There was no true love on his part, he was still in love with Mary.

"It's fine." You told him, and you looked at him too. "It doesn’t pain me. I’ve found my own peace."

Now you were pregnant a second time. And yet, you were still the other woman.