“Helen, you’re not listening,” Jack snapped. “I told you it’s too soon for all of this.”
I went to bed early that night, feeling the distance between us grow even wider.
As I lay there in the dark, the reality of my situation hit me.
This journey wasn’t going to be easy.
Every day, the air in our apartment felt heavier, like an invisible cloud hung over us. Even when the sun was shining outside, it didn’t lift the weight.
Jack seemed to drift further away. His affection faded fast.
Every little change I made for the pregnancy irritated him, and he started saying he felt neglected, like my health and the baby’s needs had pushed him aside.
His mother, Mrs. Joyce, wasn’t any better.
One afternoon, she called, her voice icy cold.
“Helen, this child is not the right time. You should be focusing on supporting Jack, not dragging him into fatherhood,” she said.
I gripped the phone tighter, trying not to cry.
“It’s not like I planned this on my own, Mrs. Joyce. This is our child, not just mine.”
“There are options, you know,” she replied sharply. “You’re choosing the most selfish one.”
Her words cut deep.
As if that wasn’t hard enough, Jack’s behavior kept changing.
His usual cologne was sometimes masked by another scent, a sweet perfume I didn’t recognize.
The first time I noticed it, I convinced myself it must have been from the dry cleaner. But then it happened again and again.
He started staying out late, muttering about catching up on work. Weekends, once our time together, were suddenly filled with business trips.
I tried to push the doubts away, but it was becoming impossible to ignore.
One Thursday, when Jack mentioned yet another trip, I made a decision.
I reached out to Kenneth, an old classmate who is now a detective. We met at a quiet cafe, somewhere we wouldn’t be overheard.
Kenneth slid a folder across the table.
“I got what you asked for, Helen. Are you sure you want to see this?”
I nodded, unable to speak, and opened the folder.
The photos were clear. There was Jack with another woman.
I recognized her immediately. She was a new hire at his office, someone he had mentioned in passing.
“I’m sorry, Helen,” Kenneth said softly. “There’s video too. It all adds up.”
My heart felt like it had dropped to my feet.
“Thanks, Kenneth. I needed to know,” I whispered.
I went home feeling numb, holding the folder as if it weighed a ton.
When I unlocked the door, it swung open, and there stood Mrs. Joyce. Her face was tight with disapproval.
“I came to check on you,” she said. “Jack told me he was worried about you.”
“I know about Jack,” I said firmly, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. “He’s not on a business trip. He’s with someone else.”
Mrs. Joyce scoffed, her response quick and cutting.
“You’re driving him away. Always sick, always complaining, always needing something. What man wants that?”
“That’s no excuse for cheating,” I said, my voice shaking with anger.
I shot back, anger rising, “And do you think saying that will fix anything? Having his baby isn’t about fixing things. How can you say no one in the family wants this child? This is our baby, not just mine.”
Her words hit me like a punch.
“Only you want this child, Helen. No one else,” she said coldly.
“Get out,” I said, my voice trembling.
She threw her hands up and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.
The silence that followed was crushing.
I sat on the couch, feeling hollow and numb. Every second dragged on, the pain in my chest matching the heaviness in my heart.
But as I sat there, a decision settled over me.
I had to face Jack and see the truth with my own eyes.
Kenneth had already given me all the details I needed.
The Grand View Hotel. Room 786.
His voice had been calm but heavy with reluctance.
My hands shook as I parked the car and walked into the hotel lobby. My stomach twisted into knots.
I stepped into the elevator, my heart pounding louder with each passing floor.
When the doors opened, the brightly lit hallway felt wrong, too cheerful for what I was about to face.
Room 786 was just ahead.
As I got closer, I heard laughter and the sound of glasses clinking.
My hand trembled as I knocked.
“Room service must be here with the champagne,” a woman’s carefree voice called out from inside.
The seconds stretched endlessly before the door finally opened.
Jack stood there, his face shifting from excitement to shock in an instant.
“Helen? What… how did you find me?”
“I know everything, Jack,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
Before he could respond, I pushed past him and stepped into the room.
The sight in front of me hit like a slap.
There she was, his mistress, half-dressed and scrambling to cover herself as if modesty still mattered.
Jack snapped out of his shock, and his face hardened.
“Why are you here, Helen? To spy on me? To beg?”
“No, Jack,” I replied, forcing my voice to stay calm. “I’m here to see the truth.”
“The truth?” he scoffed, stepping closer. “Fine. Here it is. I’m not happy with you anymore. You’re always so focused on yourself and this baby. You don’t even think about me.”