Chapter 1
During the final weeks of my twin pregnancy, when another sleepless night kept me awake, I came across a trending local post while scrolling on my phone.
The caption read: [I told him I was scared of getting stretch marks, and he promised to give me the babies his wife was carrying. If that isn't love, what is?]
The comments were ruthless. Everyone called her a mistress and accused her of trying to steal another woman's children.
She fired back with a marriage certificate and several photos of them living together. [A mistress? That woman only has a marriage certificate that isn't legally valid. Mine is the real one. Technically, she's the outsider.
[Her due date is in May. Once she gives birth, I'll finally be able to bring my son and daughter home.]
I stared at the photos for a long time.
The details had been blurred out, but after six years of marriage, I recognized that man instantly.
It was my husband, Ian Lawrence.
The marriage certificate. Twins. A May due date.
Those facts painted a picture too clear to mistake. There was only one couple in all of Dorsen who fit.
I pulled my phone closer and started going through the photos she'd posted.
With every photo, my stomach sank a little further.
The last photo shattered the last bit of hope I had been clinging to.
The timestamp read October 8th of last year. It was the very day I'd received my test results confirming I was pregnant with twins.
He hugged me before leaving for work and wouldn't let go, asking me to save my surprise until after work.
I accidentally got lipstick on the collar of his shirt.
That evening, I waited outside his office with the pregnancy report in my hands. When he came out, he'd changed into a clean shirt.
I assumed he had done it because he'd had a meeting.
However, in the pictures SweetTooth posted, Ian was sitting on her couch, and the lipstick mark on his collar was impossible to miss.
He'd probably thought she'd left it there. That was why he'd changed before meeting me.
I sat on the bed, my hand resting on my swollen belly.
It turned out that the day I found out we were finally having the babies we'd waited so long for, he was with another woman.
Hearing me move, Ian stirred awake behind me. Still half asleep, he reached over and cradled my belly. "Eleanor, are the babies keeping you up again?"
He sounded so natural, and I watched him without saying a word.
He had always been thoughtful.
As my pregnancy progressed and sleeping became harder, he'd sit beside the bed for hours, carefully cradling my bump so I could lean against him and finally catch my breath.
He'd started sleeping so lightly that every time I turned over, he'd wake up.
I used to think that was love. Now, I wasn't so sure anymore.
Seeing that I wasn't responding, Ian propped himself up to look at me. "Are you feeling unwell? I'll call the doctor."
I turned my phone face down on the blanket. "The babies will be here soon. When are we finally going to register our marriage?"
Ian paused for a moment.
He quickly took my hand, his voice gentle. "Why are you asking about that all of a sudden?"
"I want to be your legal wife," I said.
He forced a smile. "Eleanor, didn't I tell you before? My job is sensitive. I can't put my family's info out there. Once the babies are born, I promise we'll get it done."
I stared at him. "Really?"
"Have I ever lied to you?" He lowered his head and kissed the back of my hand. "Paperwork doesn't matter. You're the only woman I'll ever want."
I nodded. "Okay, I believe you."
After Ian drifted back to sleep, I removed a phone number from my blocked contacts.
Then I sent a text. [I want to leave Dorsen as soon as possible.]
*****
The next morning, Ian brought me a bowl of oatmeal.
After I got pregnant, he stopped letting the housekeeper handle my meals. He hired a nutritionist and learned how to cook for pregnant women himself. He kept track of everything I ate better than I did.
I used to think he was simply worried about our babies and me.
However, last night, when I checked SweetTooth's comment section, I realized she was showing off, acting all proud about it.
SweetTooth: [He says the babies have to be born healthy. They need to be perfect before they're handed over to me.
[He makes his wife eat properly and exercise every day so my babies will be fine.]
I lowered my head and took a few bites of the oatmeal, but soon, my stomach twisted with nausea.
I set my spoon down.
Ian frowned. "Eleanor, you're carrying twins. You have to eat."
He scooped up a bite of oatmeal and brought it to my lips. "Here."
I turned my head away.
He stayed patient. "Come on, the babies need food."
I looked up at him. "Ian, was I ever anything more than a womb to you?"
He froze. "What nonsense are you talking about?"
"Who are you doing all this for?" I pressed.
Ian set the spoon down by the bowl, his voice dropping. "Eleanor, you've been acting strange since last night. I got up early this morning to make breakfast. Who else would I be doing this for?"
His phone suddenly rang. He glanced at the screen, and his face immediately darkened.
I caught a glimpse of the screen.
It was SweetTooth.
Ian placed his phone face down and stood up. "Something urgent came up at work. I need to take this call."
I asked, "Can't you answer it here?"
He was already grabbing his coat. "It's confidential. Don't overthink it. Leave the dishes here. I'll clean up when I get back."
The door shut, and the dining room fell silent. I stared at the soup splashed across the floor and let out a quiet laugh.
Four years ago, I cut my hand, and the bleeding wouldn't stop.
Ian was so scared that night that he put away every sharp object in the house, locking the knife in a cabinet.
He wouldn't let me wash dishes, touch anything dangerous, or get close to anything that might hurt me.
He hadn't forgotten. He only cared about whoever was calling.
I bent down to pick up the broken pieces.
Marilyn, the housekeeper, came out of the kitchen quickly. "Mrs. Lawrence, leave it."
She guided me to a chair and swiftly cleaned up the mess.
Seeing my pale expression, she lowered her voice. "Did Mr. Lawrence go out again?"
I looked at her and asked, "Marilyn, have you ever seen SweetTooth before?"
The piece of porcelain slipped from Marilyn's hand and hit the trash can with a sharp sound.
She didn't say a word.
I smiled faintly. "You have, right?"
Marilyn tied up the trash bag without looking at me. "Mrs. Lawrence, you're pregnant. Don't stress yourself out. Men always have things to handle outside."
"Is she one of those 'things'?" I shot back.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then what do you mean?"
Marilyn hesitated, then finally said, "Mr. Lawrence treated you well. No matter what happens, the babies will come, and life has to continue."
I got it.
Everyone in this house knew the truth except me.
My phone buzzed. It was a message from the person I'd unblocked.
[Eleanor, you finally contacted me. I can get you a passport and a car, but first, I need you to confirm something. Have you ever seen the marriage certificate Ian has? Is it official?]