My “Single” Husband

I stumbled through our front door, my body still trembling with shock. The ultrasound images were clutched in my hand—black and white pictures of our baby, the child Ethan had denied for a stranger in a hospital waiting room. My hands shook as I placed them on the kitchen counter, staring at the tiny form that had been kicking inside me just hours ago.

The house felt eerily quiet. I'd spent the afternoon driving aimlessly, unable to face returning home to an empty space filled with lies. Now, as I heard Ethan's key in the lock, my heart hammered against my ribs.

"Elara?" he called, his voice echoing through our home. "I'm back."

I didn't answer. I couldn't. My throat felt raw, as if I'd been screaming for hours, though I'd barely spoken a word since leaving the hospital.

His footsteps paused in the entryway. "Elara? Are you home?"

When I finally stepped into the living room, Ethan's expression shifted from confusion to concern—a perfect mask of innocence that made my stomach turn.

"Where have you been?" he asked, setting down his briefcase. "I was worried when you weren't at the hospital."

The audacity of his question knocked the breath from my lungs. "Don't," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Don't you dare pretend."

"Elara, what's wrong?" His eyes widened with practiced concern. "You're white as a sheet."

"I saw you," I said, each word feeling like glass in my throat. "At the hospital. With her."

Something flickered across his face—recognition, perhaps even guilt—before his features smoothed into careful confusion.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said slowly. "What hospital? I was at the office all day."

"She's pregnant, Ethan." My hands instinctively moved to my belly, protecting our child from the ugliness of this conversation. "The woman you were with. She's pregnant."

His expression didn't change, but his eyes darted briefly to my stomach before returning to my face. "Elara, you're not making any sense. Who are you talking about?"

"Chloe Sterling," I said, watching his face carefully. "Your girlfriend, according to what you told everyone in the hospital waiting room."

Ethan sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair. "Oh, Elara." His voice softened as he moved toward me. "I can explain everything."

"Don't touch me," I hissed, stepping back.

He stopped, his hands raised in mock surrender. "Chloe Sterling is a client—our biggest potential client. Her family's company is worth millions, and if I can secure their account, it could mean a promotion, a raise..."

"So you pretended not to know me?" My voice cracked. "You introduced her as your girlfriend?"

"It's complicated," he said, his tone shifting to one of patient explanation. "Chloe has... developed feelings for me. She's made it clear that if I want this deal, I need to play along with her fantasy."

"Her fantasy?" I repeated numbly.

"She thinks I'm single," he continued, moving closer despite my earlier warning. "If she knew I was married, she'd pull the account. Do you understand what's at stake here, Elara? This promotion could change everything for us—for our baby."

I stared at him, trying to reconcile the man before me with the husband I thought I knew. "So you lied. You let everyone believe you're single while your wife—six months pregnant with your child—stands there like a stranger."

"I had to make a split-second decision," he said, his voice taking on an edge of frustration. "It was a professional sacrifice. For us."

"For us?" I echoed hollowly.

"Yes, for us!" His voice rose defensively. "Don't you see what this could mean? More money, better benefits, a bigger house for our family. I'm doing this for you and our baby."

The manipulation was so transparent it almost made me laugh. Almost.

"And her baby?" I asked quietly.

Ethan's face hardened. "What are you implying?"

"I saw how you looked at her, Ethan. How you touched her. How you denied knowing your own wife."

"You're being ridiculous." He turned away, grabbing his briefcase again. "I need to finish some work."

"Swear to me," I demanded, my voice stronger now. "Swear on our baby that you haven't betrayed our marriage."

He turned back, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made me flinch. "I swear on our child that I have never betrayed you." His voice was steady, unwavering. "This is all for our future."

I wanted to believe him. God, how I wanted to believe him.

"I should have been there today," he added softly. "To see our baby's ultrasound. Was everything okay?"

The tenderness in his voice nearly broke me. This was the Ethan I knew—the man who had held me through morning sickness, who had painted the nursery with me last month.

"Everything's fine," I whispered, unable to maintain my anger in the face of his apparent remorse. "The baby's healthy."

He crossed the room and gently took my hands in his. "I'm sorry about today. But you have to trust me, Elara. What I'm doing is for our family."

I nodded slowly, wanting desperately to believe him.

---

But doubt is a stubborn thing.

Two days later, I found myself standing outside Ethan's office building, a hastily packed lunch in my hands. The rational part of my brain knew I should trust him—he had explained everything, sworn an oath on our unborn child.

Yet something felt wrong. The way Chloe had looked at him, the possessive way she'd touched his arm...

"Mrs. Hayes?" A security guard approached as I lingered in the lobby. "Can I help you?"

"I'm here to see my husband," I said, forcing a smile. "Ethan Hayes? He works in marketing."

"Ah, yes. 14th floor." The guard smiled back. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, I just... I brought him lunch." I lifted the bag slightly. "He's been working so hard lately."

"Well, you'll need to sign in." He gestured to a visitor log at his desk. "And I'll need to call up to verify."

My heart raced as I signed my name. What if Ethan wasn't there? What if he was with her?

The guard picked up the phone, and I held my breath.

"Mr. Hayes? There's a Mrs. Hayes here to see you. Says she's brought your lunch."

I watched his face as he listened to the response, unable to hear Ethan's words.

"Of course." The guard hung up. "He says he's in a meeting right now, but he'll try to come down when he gets a break."

"Thank you," I said, relief washing over me. He was here. He wasn't with her.

Or so I thought.

As I waited in the lobby, I noticed two elevators opening simultaneously. One contained a group of suited executives; the other held only two people.

Ethan and Chloe.

They were laughing, standing close together. As the doors opened, Ethan's hand slid to the small of her back—the same gesture I'd seen at the hospital.

I shrank back against a column, my heart pounding as they walked toward the exit, oblivious to my presence.

"I can't wait until tonight," Chloe was saying, her voice carrying across the marble floor. "You've been teasing me all week."

Ethan chuckled, the sound sending ice through my veins. "Patience, Chloe. Some things are worth waiting for."

As they pushed through the revolving doors, leaving me standing alone with my pathetic little lunch bag, I realized with sickening clarity that my husband's promise had been just another lie.