At almost nine months pregnant, cleaning was exhausting. My back ached, and my swollen feet made every step harder. But the mess had piled up, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
As I dusted the shelf, I paused at a photo of Aaron and me. We looked so happy back then. I could still hear the laughter from that day—the moment we found out we were having a boy. But lately, Aaron barely looked at me. He was distant, quiet, and always coming home late.
The front door opened. I turned quickly, pushing away my uneasy thoughts.
“Hey,” I greeted him.
“Hey,” he muttered, avoiding my eyes.
I hesitated. “I was thinking about your mom. She hasn’t called me in a while. Maybe she’s finally accepting me?”
Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said, walking past me.
I followed him. He changed into jeans and a plain shirt—not his usual outfit for staying in.
“Are you going out?” I asked, feeling a knot in my stomach.
“Yeah, just some errands,” he said, still not looking at me.
“What kind of errands?”
“Nothing big,” he replied, heading for the door.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” My voice grew louder. “If you’re hiding something, just tell me!”
Aaron turned, eyes wide. “I’m not cheating! I just didn’t want to stress you.”
His words didn’t comfort me. Later, my friend Katherine suggested I check his things. I hesitated, then searched his closet. Behind a stack of sweaters, I found a small gift box. Inside was lace lingerie. It wasn’t mine.
Tears filled my eyes as I texted Aaron. No reply. I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning, I found breakfast on the counter, but no sign of Aaron. In the trash, I spotted shredded bills. Something wasn’t right.
That evening, I confronted him.
“They’re hospital bills,” Aaron admitted. His mom was sick.
“And the lingerie?” I asked.
“It was for you. I thought it’d make you feel special.”
Later, I visited Sara at the hospital. For the first time, we spoke openly. Maybe things could change.
