When Jessica’s husband, James, asks her to be a surrogate for his brother’s fiancée, she agrees against her better judgement. However, as the pregnancy progresses, her doubts grow. The bride remains unavailable, every detail seems implausible, and when Jessica finally meets her, the truth shatters everything.
It all started when James, my husband of eight years, asked me to join him for a ‘family reunion’ with his mother, Diane, and younger brother, Matt.
I remember rolling my eyes as we drove to Diane’s house. There was always some kind of drama brewing in James’ family.
‘What is it this time?’ I asked James. ‘Your mum found another scratch on her precious china and decided it was my fault?’
James didn’t take his eyes off the road. ‘It’s something important, Jess. Just hear them out, okay?’
When we arrived, Diana greeted me with a typically stiff hug and led me into the living room. Matt nodded awkwardly, sitting down in a chair.
‘Jessica,’ Diana began, her voice taking on that syrupy tone she used when asking for a favour. ‘We have something special to ask of you.’
I looked at James, who was studying his hands.
Matt cleared his throat.
‘Jessica,’ Matt said, his voice trembling slightly. ‘I’m engaged.’
‘Congratulations,’ I replied, genuinely happy for him. ‘When can we meet her?’
Matt and Diane exchanged glances.
‘Um…I’m not sure exactly. She’s a wildlife photographer,’ Matt explained.
‘She’s in the Ethiopian highlands right now, trying to film Ethiopian wolves in the wild,’ he added. ‘And the mobile phone signal in the mountains is terrible.’
‘The thing is,’ Diana said, leaning forward, ’my future daughter-in-law has some health issues. She desperately wants children, but she can’t bear them herself.’
Three pairs of eyes stared at me intently, and I felt a creeping dread.
‘We were hoping,’ Matt said, ’that you could be a surrogate for us.
The request hung in the air. I looked at James, expecting him to be as shocked as I was, but his facial expression told me that he’d known all along.
‘You want me to carry your baby?’ I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
‘Think about what it would mean for Matt,’ James said, squeezing my hand. ‘And the compensation will really help us and our children. We’ll be able to make a significant contribution to their college and renovate that kitchen you’ve been wanting.’
‘But your brother’s fiancée-’ I began. ‘Shouldn’t I at least talk to her first? It’s such a big decision.’
‘She’s totally on board,’ Matt quickly assured me. ‘We did IVF before she left and froze the embryos. All we need is a surrogate.’
‘But I haven’t even met her.’
‘She’ll be back in the States soon,’ Diane said, patting my knee. ‘You two will get along just fine, I’m sure.’
I felt trapped, surrounded by expectant faces.
James knew exactly what buttons to push: the future of our children, the arrangement of the house-all the things he knew mattered to me.
Despite the aching feeling in my gut, I nodded slowly. ‘I’ll do it.’
The next nine months passed in a series of doctor’s visits and growing discomfort.
Each trimester brought new problems: morning sickness that lasted all day, swollen ankles and back pain that kept me up at night.
James was supportive in his own way, rubbing my feet and reminding me how money would change our lives.
And yet something wasn’t right.
Matt visited us regularly, bringing vitamins and checking on the baby’s condition.
But his fiancée remained a mystery.
‘Has Matt’s fiancée called yet?’ I asked James one night as we lay in bed, my huge belly preventing me from finding a comfortable position.
‘She’s still travelling,’ James muttered, already half asleep.
‘Nine months already? Without a single phone call to the woman carrying her baby?’
James sighed and rolled over onto his back. ‘You’re stressing yourself out for nothing, Jess. It’s not good for the baby.’
‘For the baby,’ I whispered to myself. ‘Not me.’
As the delivery date approached, my anxiety grew.
I tried calling Matt directly.
‘When is your fiancée coming back? I’d really like to meet her before the birth.’
‘Soon,’ he promised. ‘She’s still in Ethiopia, trying to photograph some incredibly rare bird on the plains of Nechisar.’
I sighed. It seemed this woman was as impossible to grasp as the animals she photographed.
The day I went into labour, James drove me to the hospital and I clutched at the dashboard from the pain ripping through my stomach.
At the hospital, James held my hand during the initial checkup.
Soon Matt and Diane arrived. They rushed into the room, but I threw up my hand.
‘Out, both of you,’ I ordered them through clenched teeth. ‘This is too personal.’
‘Six centimetres,’ the nurse announced. ‘Moving right along.’
A few minutes later, James’s phone rang. He removed his hand from mine and checked the message.
‘I’ll be right back,’ he said as he left the room. ‘Matt’s fiancée is here.’
A few minutes later, he returned with a gorgeous woman.
I recognised her immediately.
‘Rachel?’ The name escaped my lips like a curse.
Rachel was James’s high school sweetheart. The woman whose name I’d banned from our house after discovering James drunkenly browsing her social media accounts one night, six years into our marriage.
After he confessed that he never got over her.
‘Jessica!’ Rachel’s face lit up with genuine joy. ‘I can’t thank you enough. I know how hard it was, but you made our dream come true!’
The room swirled around me.
I turned to James, my voice shaking with rage. ‘You knew exactly who she was all along. And you never told me.’
The expression on James’ face faintly trembled. ‘It didn’t matter.’
‘It didn’t matter?’ repeated I, incredulous. ‘You asked me to carry a child with a woman you told me you could never get over, and it didn’t matter?’
Diana stepped forward, her voice soothing. ‘Honey, you don’t have to react like that. Rachel wanted a baby and you were the perfect choice!’
‘You’ve already successfully carried two children without complications. Besides, she wants to keep her body.’
All the details fell into place with nauseating clarity.
This wasn’t about helping the family. This was about convenience. About keeping Rachel’s perfect body intact and using mine as an incubator.
‘Nice to know I’m a good filly,’ I snapped at her.
Rachel’s face flushed with guilt. ‘I didn’t mean to…’
‘Quiet!’ I growled, feeling the pain of another contraction shoot through me. ‘Liars. Manipulative little…’
‘Stop being dramatic.’ James sighed.
‘Jessica, it’s over,’ he continued. ‘The baby’s here. Just let him go.’
I exhaled slowly, trying to calm down even though the contractions were getting faster.
I turned to the nurse who was checking my vitals, deliberately avoiding eye contact with the family that had betrayed me.
‘I need some alone time with my husband.’
Rachel and Diana hesitated, but the nurse quickly escorted everyone but James out of the room. As soon as the door slammed shut, I gave James a cold look.
‘We’re done.’
James blinked confusedly. ‘What?’
‘This marriage. With us. You tricked me into becoming an incubator for that witch. You disrespected me for the last time.’
James laughed, really laughed. ‘You’re making a big deal out of this.’
‘I am? Then you won’t mind if I take everything I’m legally entitled to in the divorce.’
The colour disappeared from James’ face as the meaning of what he said reached him.
We had built a comfortable life together. Our house was almost paid off, we had retirement accounts and college funds for the kids. It was all subject to division.
‘Jessica…’ he began, suddenly panicked.
‘No,’ I interrupted, my voice firm despite another fight breaking through me. ‘You took away my choice. Now I’m getting my life back.’
I had yet to experience the last stage of labour.
I went through it alone, not wanting any traitors in the room with me as I slogged through the seemingly endless pain.
When the newborn’s cries finally filled the room, I felt a complex mixture of relief, grief, and determination.
The nurse placed the baby in my arms for a brief moment.
I stared at the tiny face, so innocent despite the circumstances of its arrival.
But then I handed the baby back to the nurse. ‘This baby is not mine.’
Within a week, I met with a lawyer.
I filed for divorce, got full custody of the children, and made sure James felt the full weight of what he had done.
James tried to make it up to me: he sent flowers, left tearful voicemails, and even showed up at my parents’ house where I lived with the kids.
‘Please, Jessica,’ he pleaded. ‘This was a mistake. I should have told you.’
‘A mistake?’ I replied calmly. ‘The mistake was forgetting the anniversary. It was a calculated betrayal.’
Three months later, I sat across from my lawyer as she handed me the final divorce papers.
‘He agreed to all the terms,’ she said. ‘The house, the bills, primary custody. You win, Jessica.’
I signed my name with firm hands. ‘I didn’t win anything. I just stopped losing.’
As I was leaving the office, a text from James popped up on my phone, ‘Rachel had her baby christened yesterday. They want you to know they are grateful.’
I deleted the message without replying anything and stepped out into the fresh autumn air.
Rachel got her perfect body and her perfect baby. Matt got his family without having to watch his wife go through a pregnancy.
James got exactly what he deserved.
And me?
I got something far more valuable: my freedom.
