The appointment with the lawyer was on a Tuesday morning.
I almost canceled it twice.
Not because I didn't want answers.
Because getting answers meant accepting that my marriage might already be over.
I sat in the waiting room holding my clinic folder.
The pale yellow baby blanket Graham had given us was still in the drawer at home.
I kept thinking about it.
A gift for the child I was carrying.
A child connected to a future I had never been told about.
When the lawyer called my name, I stood slowly.
She introduced herself as Melissa.
She was calm, professional, and didn't make me feel embarrassed about asking questions.
I explained the surrogacy arrangement.
I told her about the medical appointments, the counseling, the paperwork, and the fact that the second embryo transfer had worked.
Then I told her about my husband's behavior.
I explained the late-night telephone conversation.
I repeated the words I had heard.
I told her about Graham's messages.
And finally, I admitted something I had been afraid to say aloud.
"I think my husband is planning to leave me after the baby is born."
Melissa didn't interrupt.
She let me finish.
Then she asked a question.
"Did you have independent legal advice before signing the agreement?"
I hesitated.
"I understood the documents, but my husband was involved in everything."
She nodded.
"Then we should review exactly what you signed and what protections apply to you."
I opened my folder.
She examined the documents carefully.
She explained that the legal consequences of a surrogacy arrangement depended on the applicable law and the specific agreements.
She also told me not to rely on my husband's explanations.
I listened to every word.
Then she asked something else.
"Has your husband told you that he intends to end your marriage?"
I looked down.
"Not directly."
"Has Graham?"
"No."
"Then we need to separate what you know from what you suspect."
That sentence stayed with me.
What I knew.
What I suspected.
I had spent so many nights imagining what might happen that I had started treating my fears as facts.
Melissa encouraged me to keep records of relevant conversations and documents.
She also suggested that I speak with the appropriate medical and counseling professionals before making any decisions about the pregnancy.
I thanked her.
For the first time in weeks, I felt someone was listening without trying to persuade me to do anything.
When I returned home, my husband was in the living room.
He looked at the folder in my hand.
"Where have you been?"
I took off my coat.
"An appointment."
"What appointment?"
I looked at him.
"Legal advice."
His face changed.
"What?"
"I wanted someone to explain the paperwork independently."
He stared at me.
For several seconds, he didn't say anything.
Then he laughed awkwardly.
"Why would you need a lawyer? We already went through all that."
"I wanted to understand everything properly."
He put down his phone.
"Did someone tell you something?"
I shook my head.
"No. I just wanted advice."
He walked toward me.
"You're worrying about things that don't need to be complicated."
I looked at him.
"I don't think understanding my rights is complicated."
His expression hardened.
Then he softened his voice.
"Of course not. I just don't want you stressing yourself."
I nodded.
He reached for my hand.
I allowed him to hold it.
But I didn't squeeze back.
That evening, Graham sent him another message.
I saw the notification while my husband was preparing dinner.
He immediately turned his phone over.
I didn't ask.
Instead, I went upstairs and checked my appointment notes.
I wanted to make sure I remembered everything Melissa had said.
A few minutes later, my husband entered the bedroom.
He sat on the edge of the bed.
"Can we talk?"
I closed the notebook.
"Sure."
He looked uncomfortable.
"Have I done something to make you doubt me?"
The question caught me off guard.
I studied his face.
He looked genuinely concerned.
But I remembered the kitchen.
I remembered his laughter.
I remembered him telling Graham that I trusted him too much.
I decided to answer carefully.
"I think we should be honest with each other."
He nodded.
"Always."
I almost laughed.
Instead, I asked him whether there was anything about Graham or the pregnancy that he hadn't told me.
He stared at me.
Then he shook his head.
"No. Why would there be?"
I looked away.
"Just asking."
He leaned forward and kissed my forehead.
"Everything is going to be fine."
He left the room.
I sat there for a long time.
I had given him an opportunity to tell the truth.
He had chosen not to.
And that hurt more than I expected.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: I Found Out My Husband Had Been Making Plans for a New Home While I Was Preparing for the Birth of a Baby
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 9 of 20
