I didn't reply. Instead, I contacted a friend who works in the obstetrics and gynecology department.
"Hans, I'm on my annual leave right now. You'll have to wait until I'm back to help you look into it."
It might only be five days, but I could wait.
Rosy didn't return until the clock had long struck midnight. Drunk, she held the durian I hated and mumbled to me from the side of the bed. "Honey, I brought you a durian. Smell it, it's so fragrant."
Suppressing my nausea, I shoved her away with one slap. "Get out!"
Only when she saw me pinching my nose and grimacing did Rosy finally recall that durian made me sick. She immediately scrambled out the door while clutching the fruit.
By dawn, the stench had finally dissipated.
That morning, she'd prepared a table full of steaming breakfast dishes and called me to eat. "Honey, Anthony said everywhere will be crowded during the National Day holiday, so he doesn't want to go to Japan anymore. I've canceled the tickets and the hotel."
She mentioned Anthony so casually, as if nothing had happened yesterday.
"Oh, whatever you want. It's not good to be in a crowd in the early stages of pregnancy anyway; you might lose the baby."