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!”