Pregnant With His Lies

It was actually my idea to go for that prenatal checkup. Compared to other women six months along, my belly was far too big—almost the size of someone carrying twins.

I looked it up online. A baby that grew too large could make delivery dangerous for both mother and child. That was why I suggested another hospital visit, just to be safe.

I never expected that this marriage, or James' six years of persistence in chasing me, was nothing but a complete lie.

I was never his wife. I was just the substitute carrying the child he wanted for himself and Natasha.

One night, half-asleep in bed, I vaguely heard James on the phone. I could not catch his words clearly, but when I woke, the house was suddenly filled with several new maids.

"Jenna, you're awake?" he said.

"Why are there so many people here?" I asked.

His eyes flickered nervously before he rushed over to hug me, patting my head gently like always.

"Did you forget again? I have to leave on a business trip for a few days. Since I can't be here with you, I hired them to take good care of you."

I remembered it was the end of the month. James always disappeared for a few days around this time.

The next day, he was gone.

Shortly after I got up, one of the maids brought me a pill. "Mrs. Hunt, here's the prenatal medicine Mr. Hunt instructed us to give you. Three times a day, and not a single dose can be missed."

A chill spread through me. These women were not here to care for me, but to watch over me. Bitterness welled up inside me.

Right then, my phone rang. Of course, it was James—right on time. He knew exactly when I woke up and when I was supposed to take the medicine.

"Jenna, did you take your pill today?" he asked.

My throat tightened. I stayed quiet for a long time, fighting down the hurt and resentment. "Not yet. James, do I really have to keep taking this medicine?"

His tone turned sharp instantly. "It's for your own good. Take it. Don't make me angry."

Whatever fragile hope I had left was finally shattered. Under the watchful eyes of the maids, I swallowed the pill.

From then on, every single day, right before I took my dose, he would call or video chat at the same time.

The maids looked on with envy. "Mrs. Hunt, Mr. Hunt really cares about you. He remembers every dose and even calls to remind you. The love between you two is admirable."

I said nothing and merely forced a weak smile.

What was there to admire? That my so-called loving husband cared more about keeping me alive long enough to deliver the baby than about me?

When the maids were not looking, I lay in bed and booked an appointment for an abortion at another hospital.

Since James never once considered me his wife, I wasn't going to sit here and wait to die. This mistake had gone on long enough.

Not long after, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from Natasha. "Jenna, you haven't been home in so long. Isn't it your birthday today? Mom wants you to come back for dinner."

The words made me clutch the phone tight as my breath caught. Natasha was my stepsister, and Tilly Fisher was my biological mother. But when I was still young, Tilly had thrown me out of the house.

On my 18th birthday, Natasha had jumped into the water herself, yet she claimed I pushed her.

Not only did Mom blame me, but she was also desperate to keep her place in her new family. Hence, she did not hesitate to send me away.

When I did not reply, Natasha sent another message. This time, it was a photo of a man driving. Only part of his arm was visible, but the wedding band on his finger was one I knew all too well.

"Jenna, James is here too. He wants you to join us." A message followed.