One Pretend Husband, One Real One

My husband, Malcolm Thorpe, has low sperm motility. After 33 rounds of IVF, I finally got pregnant.

On delivery day, I start hemorrhaging, and the medical team calls for an emergency C-section. Malcolm signs the consent form, then rushes straight back to his childhood sweetheart's birthday party.

But instead of starting the C-section, the surgeon says, "Ms. Jacobson, the electronic medical record lists you as single. This consent form isn't valid."

I stop breathing for a beat. The happy marriage I believe in turns out to be a sham.

Later, Mom and Dad rush in and sign the consent for me. But by then, the baby is gone. The asphyxia lasted too long.

After surgery, I scrawl my name on the cremation consent with shaking hands, then dial a number without thinking.

"Samuel, are you free now? Meet me in front of City Hall."

After we signed the marriage papers, Samuel Fowler still looked a little stunned.

"Gigi… did you really marry me?" He stood there, empty-eyed.

I couldn't help the small smile that tugged at my mouth until it tugged at my stitches, and pain pricked my brow.

Samuel rushed me back to the hospital and pressed a careful kiss to my forehead.

"I have to head out of town for some work. Get some rest, and I'll come back for you," he said.

I had hauled my post-op, shaky body down to City Hall to marry Samuel. By the time it was over, I was spent. Slowly, I drifted off without meaning to.

Through the haze, I caught Malcolm Thorpe talking to a friend.

"Giselle almost died!" his friend said. "Aren't you going to switch the marriage info back in the electronic medical record?"

"Give it a little time. Ashley's critically ill, and her only wish is to marry me."

"But if Giselle learns the truth, she could leave you anytime!"

"How would she? She's been through hell for me. How could she possibly walk away?"

When I finally woke, I opened my eyes to Malcolm's face, tight with worry.

"Gigi, you're awake! The maid made chicken noodle soup. You should have it while it's warm."

The care in his voice almost made me believe I'd imagined what I'd heard before.

I went straight to the point. "Malcolm, why does the electronic medical record list me as single?"

He went still before saying, "Maybe the hospital's system hasn't been updated yet. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. I'm sorry—I should've stayed with you."

My stomach dropped when I caught that quick flash of panic in his eyes.

"Yeah. It sounds like their system could use an update," I said, easy as air.

Malcolm exhaled and, with unhurried care, ladled chicken noodle soup into a bowl for me. "Don't overthink it. By the way, how's our baby?"

Our baby?

I froze. Had no one told him the baby was gone? Then again, it made sense. Malcolm wasn't my legal spouse. Of course, no one would inform him.

A weight settled on my chest, suffocating.

When I finally spoke, my voice came out slow. "The baby was too weak. They've got the baby in an incubator."

Malcolm didn't suspect a thing. He started to speak, but then suddenly shot to his feet. "Ashley! What are you doing here?"

He was so worked up that the scalding soup sloshed over my hand, and my skin went red in an instant. But he didn't notice. His eyes were locked on that petite figure.

He clenched his fists, so nervous his voice shook. "What happened? Are you feeling unwell again? Why didn't you tell me?"

Ashley Scott's face was chalk-white. "It's nothing serious. My period's late. You have more important things to deal with…"

She shot me a pointed look.

Malcolm tapped her head. "Nothing matters more than you!"

I couldn't help speaking up. "Malcolm…"

Only then did he notice my burned hand. Before I could speak, he frowned and yanked off my coat, wrapping it around Ashley's waist in that bossy way of his.

"It's freezing, and you're out here with bare legs! You're old enough to take care of yourself, aren't you? Come on, I'm taking you to a doctor!"

Malcolm never looked at me. In that instant, I saw all over again how foolish I was.

I went through 33 rounds of IVF, and he never came with me. He was always working late or "too busy".

I was terrified of pain. Still, like a fool, I gritted my teeth and learned to give myself the ovulation shots, leaving my belly speckled with tiny puncture marks.

So, it wasn't that Malcolm had no time—he'd just given all of it to Ashley. The difference between how he treated the woman he truly loved and how he treated me couldn't have been clearer.

I had no strength left to keep this up with him.