Ch. Carrying a Child That’s Not Mine 1 Carrying a Child That’s Not Mine 1

I failed to conceive for the first three years of marriage. Under my husband’s persuasion, I gave in vitro fertilization a try and finally hit the jackpot after two years. At eight months pregnant, I overheard a conversation between my husband, Jonah Sawyer, and his best friend. “You gave Chelsea contraceptive pills for three years just to make her believe she was infertile, using her desperation to force her into IVF, all so you could implant Lucy’s egg into her body. You’re cold, man!” Jonah seemed indifferent. “Being pregnant not only changes a woman’s body but also means enduring extreme pain during childbirth. I’d never put Luce through that.” I looked at the calculated man I called husband and unhesitatingly called the hospital to book an appointment. “Hello, I’d like to schedule an abortion.” … Zachary Nelson looked at Jonah with mockery. “What happens when Chelsea finds out? Won’t she go crazy? I mean, who would want to raise someone else’s kid, right? Especially after carrying it for ten whole months—only to find out it’s not even hers.” “She’s too dumb to find out about anything. Besides, so what if she does? It’s not like she can abort the baby at eight months. And don’t get me started on her disgusting body. Who else but me would want her?” “You’re right. Everyone knows how much Chelsea adores you—she clings to you like a bad rash. Still, I’m curious how it’s like to screw a preggo.” Malice overtook Zachary’s face as he raised a brow at Jonah, seemingly hinting at something. However, Jonah only seemed more revolted. “She’s as big as a cow now. I don’t even want to look at her, let alone get it up for her. I swear I’d rather watch other women than look at her humongous belly. Ew!” “If you’re that disinterested with her, why don’t you let me have a go? I’d really like to know how it feels with a preggo.” As if that wasn’t enough, the men began guffawing in the room, each laugh piercing through my heart like a burning knife. Because of IVF, I had taken countless hormone pills and endured endless injections over the past two years, causing my body to become swollen and out of shape. After I got pregnant, Jonah was always worried I wasn’t getting enough nutrition. He insisted I ate like crazy every day, which led to my baby’s rapid growth. By five months, my belly was already covered in ugly stretch marks. I used to assume he did it because he cared about me. Now, I realized it was only because the baby was the product of his and Lucy Morgan’s love. My hands formed into fists, and my back was covered in cold sweat. By instinct, I ran out of that suffocating house like my life depended on it. After calming myself down, I decisively pulled out my phone and called the hospital. “Hello, I’d like to schedule an abortion.” I rushed to the hospital overnight, terrified that I might lose my mind if I stayed even a second longer. The on-duty doctor at the hospital kept staring at my huge belly, repeatedly confirming with me. “You’re eight months along. Are you sure you want to abort your baby? Where’s the father?” “He’s dead.” Considering how much Jonah looked forward to welcoming the baby, I decided to prepare him a gift. Seeing the numb, lifeless look in my eyes, the doctor no longer questioned my decision. She quickly prescribed me the medication and handed me the appointment slip. “Take the pills, and come back in three days for the procedure.” I returned home, exhausted, holding the appointment slip, only to find that the keypad lock kept showing that the password was incorrect. Just as I was about to make a call, the door suddenly opened, and Lucy walked out in a seductive nightgown.