More than once, I had passed by and seen Regina lying in bed, half-covered—only bothering to shut the door when she realized it was me standing there.
And now, right on cue, Regina’s eyes welled up with tears.
“Lisa, it’s my fault. My husband died so young, and now I’m left alone with a baby. I even have to trouble Tyler over something like this… I’m so sorry for being such a burden to you both.”
Tyler turned to glare at me. His expression was cold.
“Enough already. She’s the one suffering, and you’re acting like she did something wrong over a few tissues? You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”
For some reason, I suddenly laughed. I thought back to the summer we got married.
“They say all men love staring at pretty women on the street—the crop tops, the long legs, the short skirts. Are you the same?”
Back then, I used to lie on his shoulder, listening to him speak with nothing but warmth and adoration.
“I don’t look at other women. No one’s as beautiful as my wife.”
But now, not only had he looked; he had touched.
At that moment, Regina’s face suddenly flushed.
“I think there’s too much milk… The baby’s too small and doesn’t have the strength to suck it out. It’s all clogged up. It hurts so much. Tyler, help me…”
I wasn’t a mother yet, but even I knew that when milk ducts were truly blocked, they were rock-hard and completely stuck.
She had just been leaking moments ago.
But Tyler, who was as clueless as ever, didn’t know any better.
He shot me an awkward glance, hesitated for a second, then pulled out his phone and opened a video he had saved for a while.
“Lisa, I’m a man. I shouldn’t be the one to do this. Here, watch this and help Gina out.”
It was a lactation massage tutorial, explaining the technique in full detail.
I stared at him. My eyes were burning, and my throat was tight with words I couldn’t force out.
Tyler sighed, acting like this was some great moral dilemma. “It’s late. There’s no way we’ll find a lactation specialist right now. It’s not like I can do it, right?”
Regina let out a soft, pained moan from the bed, but when Tyler said that, her eyes lit up with expectation.
In front of a newborn, I couldn’t even find the right words to describe how disgusting they were.
Swallowing the nausea rising in my throat, I forced out a single sentence. “Do whatever you want.”
Then, I turned and stepped into my bedroom.
The moment my foot crossed the threshold, I heard noises from the master bedroom next door—sounds I didn’t need to hear to know exactly what was happening.
What they didn’t know was that a few days ago, when Tyler went to the hospital to stay with Regina, I had installed a hidden camera at home.
That footage captured everything. It captured every disgusting little thing they did. And now, I had it all saved and ready to go.
This time, I had a gift for them.
