‘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.