I didn't speak immediately.
I just stared at Sophie.
The restaurant suddenly felt smaller.
The sound of dishes and conversations faded into the background.
"What do you mean, a plan that involves me?"
Sophie wrapped both hands around her teacup.
"Julian told me that his mother wanted you to raise the baby."
I looked at her.
I had heard those words before.
I had heard Helga say them at the dinner table.
But hearing them from Sophie made them feel more real.
"Why would I raise your child?"
Sophie shook her head.
"He said you had always wanted to become a mother. He thought you would eventually accept it."
I felt something tighten in my chest.
"Accept what? That my husband cheated on me?"
She looked uncomfortable.
"I don't know exactly how he planned to explain it."
"Did he tell you he was still married to me?"
"Yes."
"Did he tell you we were still living together?"
"Yes."
"Did he tell you we celebrated our tenth anniversary three weeks ago?"
"No."
I leaned back.
Sophie looked genuinely surprised.
"He told me your relationship was basically over."
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because I didn't know what else to do.
For ten years, I had believed I was building a marriage.
Apparently, Julian had been describing two different lives to two different women.
I looked at the email again.
"What did he promise you?"
Sophie took a moment.
"He said he would eventually leave you."
"Eventually?"
She nodded.
"He said he needed time to organize everything."
"Organize what?"
"His finances. The house. His family's expectations."
I stared at her.
Then I asked the question that had been bothering me since dinner.
"Why did his mother want me to raise your baby?"
Sophie looked away.
"She said it would be better for the child to grow up in a stable home."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"With the woman whose husband had an affair with you?"
Sophie flinched.
"I know how it sounds."
"No. I don't think you do."
She wiped her eyes.
"I didn't know everything at first. He told me you both wanted different things. He said you were aware he might have another relationship."
I looked at her.
"That's not true."
"I know that now."
For the first time, I believed she was frightened too.
But I wasn't ready to comfort her.
I had spent years comforting myself after Julian's disappointments.
I couldn't take responsibility for hers.
I folded the email and placed it in my handbag.
"Do you have more messages?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
"Can you show me?"
She opened her phone.
There were several conversations.
Some were ordinary.
Others made my hands shake.
Julian had discussed the pregnancy.
He had asked about doctor's appointments.
He had even discussed possible baby names.
I stared at one message.
It was dated two months earlier.
He had written that his family was excited about the baby.
Then he mentioned that his wife would eventually understand.
I read it again.
His wife.
Not Claire.
Not the woman he had promised to love.
Just his wife.
A person he expected to manage.
Sophie scrolled further.
Then she stopped.
"This is the part I wanted you to see."
She turned the phone toward me.
Julian had written about a conversation with his mother.
He said Helga believed I would be grateful to have a child in the house.
I read the sentence twice.
Grateful.
As if motherhood were something they could offer me as a favor.
As if the years of medical appointments and heartbreak had made me incapable of recognizing an insult.
I placed the phone on the table.
"Does his father know?"
"Yes."
"And Marta?"
"She knows too."
I looked out the window.
Three people from his family.
All aware.
All laughing with me at dinner.
All pretending nothing was happening.
I remembered Helga asking me to bring the cheesecake.
I remembered Marta complimenting my dress.
I remembered Klaus asking whether work was going well.
They had all looked me in the eyes.
And none of them had said a word.
I turned back to Sophie.
"Why did you decide to contact me?"
She took a deep breath.
"Because Julian started changing."
"What do you mean?"
"He became more controlling after I told him I was pregnant."
I listened.
"He wanted to know where I went. Who I spoke to. Whether I had told anyone."
"Did he threaten you?"
"Not exactly."
She paused.
"He kept saying that I needed to trust him because he was handling everything."
I understood that sentence too well.
Julian had always liked handling things.
He handled the bills.
He handled the family arrangements.
He handled conversations with his parents.
He often told me I didn't need to worry about anything.
I had mistaken control for care.
Sophie looked at me.
"I don't think he expected me to contact you."
"Why not?"
"Because he told me you wouldn't believe anything I said."
I almost smiled.
That sounded exactly like him.
Then Sophie opened another message.
It was a photograph of a calendar.
Several dates were marked.
I recognized one immediately.
The date of Julian's supposed business trip to Chicago.
The same trip I had written in my notebook that morning.
I leaned closer.
"Why is this date marked?"
Sophie hesitated.
"That's when he came to see me."
I stared at the calendar.
"Was he supposed to be working?"
She nodded.
"He told you he was at a conference, didn't he?"
I didn't answer.
I didn't need to.
Sophie lowered her phone.
"He was with me for most of that trip."
I felt sick.
Not because of the affair alone.
Because I remembered what I had done during those four days.
I had called him every evening.
I had asked whether he was eating properly.
I had reminded him to take his medication.
On the third night, I had sent him a photograph of the dinner I made.
He had replied with a heart.
A heart.
While sitting with another woman.
I rubbed my eyes.
"How many times?"
Sophie looked down.
"I don't know exactly."
"Try."
She scrolled through her messages.
"At least six trips that I know about."
I reached into my handbag and took out my notebook.
I showed her the dates.
She looked through them.
Then she nodded at several.
"These ones. Yes. He was here."
I felt the room tilt.
Eleven trips.
Six connected to Sophie.
And I still didn't know what had happened during the others.
I closed the notebook.
"Does Julian know you're planning to tell me everything?"
"No."
"Does his mother?"
"I don't think so."
I watched her carefully.
"Why should I believe you?"
She didn't become defensive.
Instead, she looked at her hands.
"You don't have to believe me today. Just look at what I showed you."
That answer stayed with me.
For the first time, I saw Sophie as something other than the woman who had betrayed my marriage.
She was also a person who had been told a story by Julian.
A story designed to make him look like the victim of a marriage that had supposedly ended long ago.
But that didn't erase what she had done.
And it didn't make us friends.
I stood up.
"I need time."
She nodded.
"I understand."
I started walking toward the door.
Then she called after me.
"Claire?"
I turned.
"There's one more thing."
I waited.
She looked frightened again.
"Julian told me that his mother had already started preparing for the baby."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
"She said there was no reason to buy everything twice."
I stared at her.
"Twice?"
Sophie nodded.
"She said your house already had enough room."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Our house.
The spare bedroom.
The room where we had once planned to put a crib.
The room I had stopped entering after our last fertility treatment failed.
I had kept it clean.
I had never found the courage to turn it into anything else.
Now I wondered whether Helga had been imagining a nursery for someone else's child.
I left the restaurant without saying goodbye.
Outside, I stood beside my car.
I didn't cry.
I didn't call Julian.
I opened my notebook and added another sentence.
They planned to bring the baby into my home.
Then I drove away.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: I Returned Home With the Truth in My Hand, but One Small Detail in Our Spare Bedroom Changed Everything
My Husband Thought I Was Too Clueless to Understand His Family’s Secret Language, Until One Dinner Changed Everything
Part 3 of 20
