Chapter 2
Charles eyed me suspiciously, as if trying to figure out why I was so different from the woman he remembered.
I nodded earnestly. "You've always said I need to learn my place, to be more gentle and understanding. I want to be better. I want to be the wife you want."
My show of complete obedience put Charles at ease.
Beaming, he crooned in a syrupy voice, "Sophia, I knew I made the right choice in marrying you."
Hearing this, Olivia instantly adopted a pitiful look, copying my act of graciousness.
"Charles, I really wouldn't mind roughing it at a hotel. Wouldn't moving in be too much trouble for you? Even though Sophia hasn't said anything, I'm sure she's unhappy about it deep down."
Not giving Olivia a chance to sink into her performance, I pulled her straight into the house.
"Of course not," I said, my tone light. "From today on, just make yourself at home. What's mine is yours!"
Seeing me like this, Charles grew even more emboldened.
"Exactly, Olivia. If you need anything, just tell Sophia," he said.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Olivia glaring at me, her jaw tight, and even Shannon stuck her tongue out at me in disgust.
The moment I turned my back, I caught Shannon whispering to Olivia.
"That witch is putting on an act. She's up to something," she muttered. "Don't worry, Mom, I've got you."
Hiding a cold smile, I put on my best performance and busied myself preparing dinner for them.
Noticing the amount of food I was carrying, a neighbor asked, "What's the occasion? You bought so much food. It's like Thanksgiving came early!"
I told them bluntly, "My husband has brought his first love home to live with us. Now I have one more mouth to feed, so of course I need more groceries."
My neighbors, who'd already had an earful about Olivia, were outraged. "It was bad enough your husband was messing around with that home-wrecker, but to move her in? How dare he! My heart just breaks for you, dear."
I lowered my head and remained silent, perfectly playing the part of the victim.
Given my good standing with the neighbors, I knew the gossip would spread throughout the neighborhood in no time.
That evening, I prepared a table full of dishes.
Charles was immensely pleased and showered me with praise. "What a wonderful wife you are," he beamed. "I can rest easy knowing Olivia is in your care."
With Charles present, Olivia had no choice but to paste on a smile.
But that night, just as I had taken off my clothes and was about to bathe, Olivia suddenly barged into the bathroom.
She stood in the doorway, stared at my postpartum stomach, and let out a horrified shriek.
"Sophia, your stomach looks like it's covered in maggots. It's disgusting!" she screamed.
Charles came running at the sound of her scream.
He saw me standing there, frantically trying to cover myself, completely flustered.
Right in front of me, Charles pulled Olivia into his arms.
"Just don't look," he said, ushering her away. "Shannon's asking for you. You should go to her."
After soothing Olivia and sending her away, he paused, then turned to offer me a half-hearted comfort.
"Olivia doesn't know any better. She's never been through this. Try not to take it to heart," he said.
With that, he closed the door behind him.
I bit my lower lip, touched my stretch marks, and couldn't stop the tears from flowing.
To spare Olivia the pains of childbirth, Charles had their embryo implanted in me.
My entire pregnancy was plagued by relentless sickness.
My body bore the full price of pregnancy: the stretch marks, the incontinence, the hemorrhoids, every affliction imaginable.
At the time, I bore it all willingly, for my love for Charles extended to the child I believed was ours.
It was only on my deathbed that I realized I had just been a fool, a mere tool for them.
I scrubbed the tears from my face with a harsh swipe. Then, I waited in the bathroom, a calculated pause to give Charles and Olivia their time alone.
Afterward, I slipped out and ghosted through the most crowded evening walks in the complex, a tissue pressed to my face, playing my part for the world to see.
A few neighbors who knew me came over, looking worried.
"Sophia, what's happened?" one of them asked.
I let out a sigh, tears streaming down my face.
"My husband moved his first love into our home," I said, my voice breaking. "I can't bear to be home, disturbing them."
A fresh tear rolled down my cheek. "But it hurts. Just now, she laughed at my stretch marks... said they looked like maggots."