The next morning, I woke up before everyone else.
I couldn't stop thinking about the phone call.
My husband had said he wanted a future with Graham.
He had said he would tell me the truth after the baby arrived.
And he had said I trusted him too much to make trouble.
I kept hearing those words.
They followed me into the shower.
They followed me while I prepared breakfast.
They followed me when I helped Sophie find her missing school shoes.
I wanted to believe there was some explanation.
Perhaps I had misunderstood.
Perhaps the conversation had been about something else.
But every time I tried to convince myself, I remembered his voice.
The way he had spoken Graham's name.
The way he had laughed about my supposed ignorance.
I couldn't explain that away.
My husband came downstairs just before seven.
He looked tired.
But when he saw me, he smiled.
"Good morning."
"Morning."
He kissed my cheek.
Then he opened the refrigerator.
"Did you sleep better?"
"A little."
He reached for the milk.
"Good. I was worried about you."
I almost laughed.
He was worried about me.
The woman he had been discussing behind her back.
The woman carrying the baby he was using to build a secret future.
I looked away.
After breakfast, he left for work.
Sophie went to school.
I was alone in the house.
I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the small folder containing my medical appointments.
The clinic had given me several documents.
I had kept everything together because I wanted to be responsible.
Now those papers seemed different.
I wondered whether I had understood every agreement correctly.
I wondered whether my husband had told me everything.
And I wondered what would happen if I discovered something that could affect the baby's future.
I decided I needed professional advice.
But before doing anything, I wanted to understand how long the deception had been going on.
That afternoon, my husband came home earlier than expected.
He placed his phone on the kitchen counter and went upstairs to change.
I was putting away groceries.
His phone vibrated.
A message appeared on the screen.
I hadn't intended to look.
But Graham's name was visible.
The message preview was short.
"Miss you. We need to talk about our plans."
I stopped moving.
My hand was still holding a carton of milk.
I stared at the screen.
Then it went dark.
I stood there for several seconds.
Miss you.
Our plans.
Those were not the words I expected to see between an employee and his boss.
I put the milk away.
I didn't touch the phone.
I didn't need to.
I had already heard enough the previous night.
My husband came downstairs wearing a different shirt.
He picked up his phone.
"Everything okay?"
I looked at him.
"Yes."
He glanced at the groceries.
"Thanks for doing that."
I nodded.
He unlocked his phone.
His expression changed slightly when he read the message.
Then he turned the screen away.
I noticed.
He noticed me noticing.
"Work stuff," he said.
I didn't ask.
I simply returned to the kitchen.
Later that evening, Graham called.
My husband answered while standing near the living room window.
I was folding towels on the sofa.
He spoke quietly.
I couldn't hear the entire conversation.
But I heard him say that everything was under control.
Then he walked into the hallway.
I continued folding.
I didn't want him to know I was paying attention.
A few minutes later, he returned.
"That was Graham."
I looked up.
"Everything okay at work?"
"Yes. Just discussing a few things."
I nodded.
He sat beside me.
For a moment, he watched me fold the towels.
Then he rested his hand on my stomach.
"How's our little one today?"
I moved slightly.
The gesture made my skin feel uncomfortable.
But I didn't pull away.
I was beginning to understand how difficult it was to pretend nothing had changed.
That night, after Sophie went to bed, I asked him something I had been thinking about all day.
"Can I ask you a question?"
He looked up from the television.
"Of course."
"Have you and Graham been friends for a long time?"
He smiled.
"Why?"
"I was just wondering."
He shrugged.
"We've worked together for years."
I waited.
Then I asked whether they spent much time together outside the office.
His smile disappeared for a moment.
"Not really. Why are you asking?"
I shook my head.
"No reason."
He reached for the remote.
"You're overthinking things. Pregnancy makes you worry about everything."
I looked at him.
Maybe he thought that sentence would make me feel better.
It didn't.
It made me realize he was already preparing excuses.
The next day, I called the clinic.
I explained that I wanted another appointment to review the arrangements.
The receptionist asked whether there was a particular concern.
I said I had some questions about the paperwork and wanted to make sure I understood my rights and responsibilities.
She scheduled an appointment.
I didn't tell my husband.
For the first time since the pregnancy began, I made a decision without asking him what he thought.
That evening, he came home carrying a small bag.
Inside was a new maternity pillow.
"I thought this might help you sleep."
I looked at it.
"Thank you."
He smiled.
"I want you comfortable."
I held the pillow against my chest.
It was soft.
Expensive.
And completely unnecessary compared with what I needed from him.
I needed the truth.
But I wasn't ready to ask for it.
Not yet.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Graham Started Appearing in Our Family Conversations More Often, Until I Realized My Husband Was Preparing Me for Something
The Birthday Dinner When My Husband First Asked Me to Carry Another Woman’s Dream, I Never Imagined What It Would Cost Our Family
Part 6 of 20
