I had spent the entire night sitting on the edge of the bed, listening to Daniel breathe.
Every time he moved, I pretended to be asleep.
Every time he reached toward me, I pulled the blanket closer.
By morning, I had made one decision.
I would not confront him until I knew exactly what he had been hiding.
The words I had heard in the kitchen kept repeating in my head.
“She still thinks she's doing this for my promotion.”
And then the sentence that had made my stomach turn.
“She has no idea who she's really carrying this baby for.”
I wanted to wake Daniel and demand an explanation.
I wanted to ask him whether our marriage had become nothing more than a convenient arrangement.
But I remembered something.
He had sounded completely relaxed when he spoke to Graham.
He hadn't sounded frightened.
He hadn't sounded guilty.
He sounded like a man discussing a plan that had been carefully arranged long before I ever agreed to become pregnant.
That frightened me more than anything.
At breakfast, Daniel acted as if nothing had happened.
He made Sophie her usual toast and sliced a banana into a little bowl.
Then he placed a glass of orange juice beside my plate.
“You didn't sleep well,” he said.
“I was uncomfortable.”
He looked at my stomach.
“Is the baby moving too much?”
“A little.”
He came around the table and kissed my forehead.
“I wish I could take some of that discomfort away.”
I looked at him.
For years, that kind of tenderness would have made me feel loved.
That morning, it made me feel sick.
Sophie was busy drawing on a piece of paper.
She had drawn our house, a tree, and three stick figures holding hands.
“That's Mommy, Daddy, and me,” she explained.
Then she added a fourth figure.
“And that's the baby.”
Daniel smiled.
“That's a beautiful picture.”
Sophie held it up proudly.
“Can we put it on the refrigerator?”
“Of course,” I said.
Daniel took the drawing and attached it with a magnet.
I watched him do it.
He had placed our daughter's picture on the refrigerator, right beside the ultrasound photograph of the baby I was carrying.
I wondered whether he had ever looked at those pictures and imagined a family that didn't include me.
After Sophie left for school, Daniel asked whether I wanted him to drive me to my appointment.
“I can go myself.”
“You shouldn't be driving around too much.”
“My doctor hasn't told me I can't drive.”
He paused.
Then he smiled.
“I'm only trying to help.”
I picked up my purse.
“I know.”
He followed me to the door.
“By the way, Graham asked how you're doing.”
My fingers tightened around the purse strap.
“What did you tell him?”
“That you're doing great.”
“Did he ask anything else?”
Daniel looked at me.
“Like what?”
“I don't know. Anything about the baby?”
He gave a small laugh.
“He's excited. That's all.”
I nodded.
Then I walked outside.
I didn't go straight to my appointment.
I sat in the parking lot for several minutes and called the clinic.
I asked whether I could receive copies of every document associated with the pregnancy.
The receptionist transferred me to a coordinator.
“Is there a particular document you're looking for?” she asked.
“I want the complete file.”
“Of course. We can arrange that.”
“I also want to know who is listed as the intended parent.”
There was a short silence.
“I can explain the general arrangement,” she said carefully, “but some information may need to be discussed with your attorney.”
“I understand.”
She gave me an appointment for the following afternoon.
When I arrived home, Daniel was standing in the kitchen.
He had bought flowers.
They were white roses, the kind he used to bring me when we were dating.
“I thought the house needed something cheerful,” he said.
I put my purse down.
“They're beautiful.”
He kissed my cheek.
Then he asked whether I had spoken to the clinic.
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Just wondering. They sometimes call me about appointments.”
“I called to ask for my paperwork.”
His smile faded for a fraction of a second.
“What paperwork?”
“My complete file.”
He turned toward the flowers.
“That's fine.”
“Is it?”
“Of course. You should have copies.”
He arranged the stems in a vase.
Then he added, almost casually, “There's nothing in there you don't already know.”
I didn't answer.
Because suddenly I understood something.
Daniel was not afraid that I would discover a mistake.
He was afraid that I would discover something he had deliberately kept from me.
That evening, after Sophie went to bed, I heard his phone vibrate.
He glanced at the screen and walked toward the hallway.
I stayed on the couch.
His voice was low.
“She asked for the documents.”
A pause.
“No, I don't think she knows yet.”
Another pause.
“Graham, we need to be careful.”
I stopped breathing.
Then Daniel said something that made my hands go cold.
“I told you I would handle my wife.”
I stared at the dark television screen.
For the first time in our marriage, I wasn't wondering whether Daniel was lying to me.
I was wondering how much of our life had been built around a lie.
Click here to continue reading: PART 18: The Paperwork That Revealed What My Husband Had Hidden
My Husband Said His Boss Needed a Baby, But I Never Expected Him to Bring Up My Body During His Birthday Celebration
Part 17 of 20
