When Emma saw her husband, Jacob, leaving the maternity ward in a designer suit, holding two newborns in his arms, her world collapsed. Determined to find out the truth, she followed him.
The morning began as usual. I was in the kitchen, staring at the two pink lines on the test in front of me. Pregnant. Again. My hand instinctively touched my stomach.
Part of me felt joy. Babies are a blessing, right? But then reality set in, and my chest tightened. How were we going to manage?
Yakov already works so hard as a cleaner, and my job as a nanny barely covers our food expenses. Tom, our 7-year-old son, needs new shoes, and our car is making a strange noise that looks like it will be expensive to fix.
Yakov was sitting in the living room, tying his shoes. His shoulders were slumped as usual, the weight of the world pressing down on him.
‘You’re up early,’ he said in an even voice.
‘It’s going to be a busy day,’ I replied, forcing a smile. ‘I have to take Tom to his grandmother’s, and then go to the Jenkinses. Those twins are a real challenge.’
He nodded and laced up his shoes. ‘It’s better than mopping the floors,’ he said with a smirk, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
I nodded in response, not wanting to stress him out. Yakov always carried so much without complaining. I couldn’t add to his problems. Not yet.
That day, I took Tom to his grandmother’s and went to see my doctor. The clinic was quiet, except for the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional muffled cough. I sat in the office, tapping my foot, waiting for Dr Patel to return with the results.
And then I saw him.
At first, I thought I was imagining things. It couldn’t be Yakov, could it? But there he was, walking down the corridor towards the maternity ward. But this wasn’t the Yakov I knew.
He was wearing an elegant black suit that I had only seen on television. His hair was perfectly combed, and an expensive wristwatch sparkled on his wrist, catching the light with every step. But what made my stomach clench was that he was holding two newborns wrapped in pastel blankets.
‘Yakov?’ I whispered, frozen in place. My voice caught in my throat, but I forced myself to shout louder. ‘Yakov!’
He didn’t even look at me.
‘Yakov! What are you doing here?’ I shouted, my voice breaking.
Nothing. He just kept walking as if he hadn’t heard me. I watched him walk out onto the street and get into a luxurious black car.
I stood in the hallway, my heart pounding in my chest, staring at the door Yakov had walked out of. Questions were swirling in my head. These children, his suit, this car — it didn’t add up.
‘Answers,’ I whispered. ‘I need answers.’
I opened the door and entered the ward. The room was bright, with sunlight streaming through the large windows, illuminating the pastel walls. In the corner, a woman was packing things into a designer bag, neatly folding children’s clothes. She looked up when I entered.
At first, I froze. She was stunning, tall and elegant, with perfectly styled red hair and a face that could grace the covers of magazines. She was wearing a silk robe, and even in a hospital setting, she exuded wealth and sophistication.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked, her tone polite but wary.
I clenched my fists, my voice trembling as I spoke. ‘I’m Emma. I’m looking for my husband, Jacob.’
The colour drained from her face. ‘Your… husband?’
‘Yes,’ I replied firmly, stepping closer. ‘I just saw him leave this room carrying two babies. They’re yours, I presume?’
She blinked rapidly, then slowly sank into a chair next to the bed. ‘Wait. Are you saying Jacob is married?’
I laughed bitterly. ‘You didn’t know? Well, let me set the record straight for you — Jacob and I have been married for nine years. We have a seven-year-old son, and I’m eight weeks pregnant with our second child. So, would you like to tell me what’s going on here?’
The woman looked at me, her jaw clenched before she spoke. ‘Jacob told me he was divorced.’
‘Of course he said that,’ I replied sharply. ‘While we’re on the subject, could you explain how my husband, a cleaner who can barely fix our car, made an impression on someone like you?’
Her eyes narrowed and she stood up, crossing her arms. “Wait a second. What do you mean by “cleaner”? Yakov said his father was a wealthy businessman and that he had inherited his fortune.”
I felt the ground slipping away from under my feet. ‘What?’ I whispered.
The woman raised her voice in disbelief. “Yes! He told me two years ago that he had come to town on business. He drove a beautiful car — some expensive brand — and dined at one of the most expensive restaurants in town. That’s where we met. He said he was only here for a couple of days, but after we started dating, he decided to stay.”
I shook my head, barely understanding what she was saying. “No, that can’t be true. We’ve been struggling for years. We can’t even afford holidays, let alone luxury cars or dinners at expensive restaurants!”
We sat in silence, the weight of Jacob’s lies pressing down on us both. Finally, the woman broke the silence.
‘My name is Clara,’ she said quietly. ‘And if what you say is true, then I think we both need to hear the truth from him.’
I nodded, my voice firm. ‘We’ll go to him. Together.’
We drove quickly to Clara’s estate and found Jacob in the nursery, holding one of the twins. He looked up, and for a moment his face changed from surprise to panic.
‘Emma? What are you doing here?’ he stammered.
‘You tell me, Jacob,’ I snapped. ‘Why are you here, dressed like a movie star, holding children that aren’t mine?’
His mistress crossed her arms and looked at him angrily. ‘And why didn’t you tell me you were married?’
Yakov sighed and put the baby back in the cot. ‘Listen, I’ll explain everything.’
‘Then explain!’ we both said in unison.
Yakov ran his hand through his hair and began pacing the room. ‘Two years ago, my father died. He left me an inheritance of $300,000.’
‘What?’ I blinked. ‘You said he had nothing!’
Yakov sighed. ‘I told Clara I was here on business. She believed me. I thought… I thought I could start a new life. I was going to tell you everything, Emma, but…’
‘But what?’ I shouted. ‘Did you spend all the money?’
His mistress stepped forward, her face pale with rage. ‘You told me your father was a millionaire, that you were waiting for the rest of the inheritance to be cleared!’
Yakov grimaced. ‘I… I may have exaggerated a little.’
‘Exaggerated beautifully?’ she hissed. ‘You deceived me! Both of us!’
Yakov raised his hands. ‘Listen, I didn’t want it to turn out this way. I was going to sort it out. It’s just… I needed to get out of this situation.’
I looked at him, my heart breaking. ‘You needed to get out? You already had a family, Yakov.’
The mistress turned to me. ‘I’m leaving him. You should leave too.’
Yakov left that night, leaving everything he owned behind. Neither of us wanted to see him again.
Yakov left that night, leaving everything he owned behind. None of us wanted to see him again.
The following week, I filed for divorce. It was difficult, but I had to do it. Tom deserves better. I deserve better.
Clara made her decision. ‘He’s not coming here, to these children,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll deal with it on my side.’
I nodded. ‘Okay. I don’t want him around my family either.’
A few days later, Clara called me. ‘Emma, I’ve been thinking,’ she said. ‘You’re strong, and you clearly care about your family. I know this might sound strange, but I need someone like you.’
‘Someone like me?’ I asked cautiously.
‘As a nanny,’ she said. ‘I need help with the twins. I’ll pay you well, and you can live in the staff house. It’s… the least I can do after everything.’
I was stunned. At first, I didn’t know what to say, but in the end, I agreed. Clara wasn’t the villain in my story. She had been deceived just as I had, and we both wanted to move forward.
Three months later, I gave birth to our second child, a beautiful girl. I worked as Clara’s nanny, living in a small but cosy house on her estate. For the first time in years, I felt stable.
Life wasn’t what I had planned, but it was mine again. Yakov was gone, but I had become stronger than I ever thought I could be.
Sometimes betrayal leads to freedom. And freedom? That’s worth everything.
