My First Love Wants Me Back

Lesley's POV

My husband’s “dream girl,” Sophie, just posted a sonogram on her social media.

Her caption read: “Thank you to my dear ‘friend’ for lending me some sperm when I was at my lowest. Now I can finally have my own baby.”

Silently, I hit "like" and left a comment: “Congrats to you both.”

Within seconds, my husband, Trenton, called, livid. “It’s just some sperm I lent to Sophie! Why are you blowing this out of proportion?” he barked.

I calmly hung up. It was time for a divorce.

I walked back inside the house, only to be stopped by the kitchen help, “Ma'am, would you like some food?” She paused, taking a glance at me then continued, “I know you need your strength for two.” She smiled knowingly and my eyes widened.

“What?!” I whispered, “How did you know?” I walked closer to her and held her arm, “Tell me now, how did you know?! I haven't told anyone.”

She whimpered, feeling the intensity of my gaze. “I just know ma'am, your physique has changed, I wouldn't have noticed, but I see you everyday, it's prone to happen that I notice.” She rushed out.

I panicked, “You can't tell anyone!” I commanded her.

She nodded eagerly, “I promise I won't.” But I only held her arm even tighter, “You promise?” I asked again.

She nodded, this time with tears in her eyes, “I promise on my life, I won't tell a soul.”

With that I released her, heaving a sigh of relief, no one can know, at least not now. I let the help go and I proceeded to the room while she scurried away.

I placed my hand on my slightly swollen belly and took a deep breath, preparing to say goodbye to the baby I was carrying. I couldn’t keep it now. But as soon as I opened my mouth, my voice cracked into sobs I could barely hold back.

This baby was supposed to be a birthday surprise for Trenton. But it seemed he didn’t need surprises from me anymore.

I was two months pregnant. It had taken countless pleas for Trenton to agree to have a baby with me. He never liked intimacy and detested children, always saying they were noisy, disruptive, and exhausting.

Yet recently, I’d seen him scrolling through articles on preparing for a baby. He’d even stayed up late making two meticulous checklists, one for what a mother-to-be needs and another for baby essentials. I thought he’d finally figured out that I was pregnant, and I was thrilled like an idiot. But now, I knew those lists weren’t meant for me.

That night, Trenton came home unusually early. It was barely 8 p.m.; normally, he didn’t come home until after midnight.

He called my name from the living room. I lay in bed, silent. When I didn’t answer, he didn’t call again. A few minutes later, I heard the shower running. He came into the bedroom after his shower, didn’t turn on the lights, and quietly slipped into bed beside me.

For the first time ever, he wrapped his arm around my waist, his touch warm and tingling.

Then he buried his face into my neck, his voice unnervingly soft.

“Babe, nothing happened between Sophie and me. I only wanted to help her fulfill her wish. She’s always wanted a child, and I promise, once the baby’s born, I’ll cut all ties with her for good.”

I said nothing, just moved his hand off my waist and inched away from him.

Feeling my coldness, he immediately grew defensive. “I’m making an effort here, and you’re still not satisfied? Don’t forget, you said my past didn’t matter, that you just wanted to be with me. So stop acting like a jealous wife, alright? I could’ve kept this from you, but I told you out of respect. And now you’re letting me down with all this emotions.”

He unleashed all his pent-up frustration, then threw a final line over his shoulder: “Think about how I’ve been treating you lately. You wanted a baby, and I cooperated. I’ll be on the couch tonight.”

The door slammed behind him. I laughed, at my pathetic marriage, and at my own blindness. To him, an apology was a favor he was graciously giving me, a display of “respect.” And if I didn’t forgive him, then I was just a petty, jealous wife.

He could only treat me this way because I’d let him. My foolish love had built this entire mess, and now I was paying for it.

Few minutes later he came inside, “You should stop being a bitch about it, it's something selfless, Lesley. You should try it, it's called humanity.” He picked his pillow and walked out.

I scoffed at his retreating figure, “Selfless human, my ass.” I whispered, willing sleep would come.