The boy I'd loved since childhood, Darren Farley, finalized his divorce and proposed to me the very next day, right there in front of everyone.
He dropped to one knee, his eyes brimming with sincerity and devotion.
"Jules, she and I were nothing but a business arrangement. There was never any real feeling between us."
"I'm done lying to myself. You're the one I truly love. Will you marry me?"
The whole world called me a homewrecker, said I was the other woman who'd clawed her way in. But those two sentences were all it took.
I ignored every whisper, every accusation, and married him without looking back.
Darren was like a teenager drunk on first love. For an entire week after the wedding, he barely let me out of bed.
After yet another round, he curled around me from behind, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on my lower belly, his voice thick with anticipation.
"Baby, do you think there might already be a little piece of us right here?"
I smiled, about to answer.
The phone on his nightstand lit up.
"Honey, today's the last day of Juliana Henson's fertile window. Go a few extra rounds and make sure she conceives."
"Give it your all, but don't you dare catch feelings for the surrogate!"
I knew that profile picture better than anyone.
It belonged to Darren's ex-wife, Kitty Sullivan.
...
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water, shocking me out of the warmth I'd been drowning in.
Darren shot upright and snatched the phone away.
The arm that had been wrapped around my waist was already gone. A chill crept across my bare skin where his warmth had been.
He stared at my back, a careful edge to his voice.
"Jules... what did you see?"
I could feel the scrutiny in his gaze. Slowly, I rolled over.
I rubbed my eyes as if I'd been half-asleep.
"Hmm? I must've dozed off."
"What's wrong? Who messaged you? Someone placing a dessert order?"
Darren's shoulders loosened, the tension draining out of him so subtly it was almost imperceptible.
He smiled, leaned down, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
"Nothing. Just spam."
"You must be exhausted. Get a little more rest. I'll hop in the shower, then run a bath to clean you up."
I watched him leave, phone clutched tight in his hand, his pace just a fraction too quick.
My heart sank, slow and heavy, like a stone settling into deep water.
He'd deleted Kitty from his contacts right in front of me once, a grand gesture to prove his sincerity, to keep me from overthinking or getting jealous.
So what had I just seen?
Water hit the bathroom tiles, the sound sharp and distinct.
Instinct told me Darren wasn't actually showering.
After a moment's hesitation, I reached for the laptop on the nightstand.
He'd stayed up too late on a video call the night before and had forgotten to log out of WhatsApp.
Probably because I never touched his things, the screen wasn't locked.
I tapped the icon, and the breath stalled in my chest.
Since the wedding, Darren had only ever called me by my nickname, Jules, whether in conversation or in his contacts.
The only time "baby" slipped out was in the heat of the moment.
But his name for Kitty in his contacts was Wifey.
The chat window was still refreshing, their conversation updating in real time.
"Honey, why aren't you answering me? Don't tell me you've actually caught feelings sleeping with that little tramp?"
"Don't forget, Juliana Henson's marriage certificate with you is FAKE. I'm your wife. The one the law actually recognizes!"
Half a minute later, Darren replied.
"Stop being paranoid. Why would I fall for someone who's been throwing herself at me?"
"I only went the extra mile to get her pregnant faster. If you could carry a child yourself, I wouldn't need her as our surrogate, and I wouldn't have had to stage a divorce to keep my parents off our backs."
"Once the baby's born, she's served her purpose. I'll drop her the second it's over."
Only then did Kitty calm down, placated enough to send a kissing emoji.
