After Seven Years,I Was Never His Wife

"Miss Griffin, your husband’s marital status doesn’t list you as his spouse. Did you perhaps enter the wrong ID number?"

The nurse in charge of registering spousal details for the pregnancy record looked at me, clearly troubled.

"That’s impossible. My husband is Brynn Murphy. Could you please check again?"

Reluctantly, the nurse searched once more.

"The system shows that Brynn’s ID is already linked to another marriage record. The name listed in the spouse column is Sylvie Gibson."

A silent explosion went off in my head. My ears buzzed, drowning out the world.

Sylvie.

The same woman the Murphy family praised to the heavens, his so-called “goddess-like” god-sister.

Every New Year, she’d sit at our dinner table, smiling sweetly as she filled Brynn’s bowl with food.

He always brushed her off, calling her silly, overly emotional, uneducated, and annoying.

I used to laugh, teasing him, "She’s your god-sister; how can you say that about her?"

But now, how could she just be a god-sister?

She was the one legally married to him.

She was listed as the legal wife on his marriage certificate.

I clutched my faintly aching abdomen. The joy I had felt moments ago, upon learning I was pregnant, had vanished, replaced by something cold and absurd.

Seven years of loving companionship, a marriage others envied, had it all been nothing but a cruel illusion?

I couldn’t even register what the nurse said next. I completed the paperwork alone, muddle-headed like I was walking through fog.

By the time I sat in the car and returned home, I felt like a stranger in my own body.

Before I could even open the front door, I heard Brynn on the phone inside.

"Brynn, you’re about to turn thirty. Isn’t it time to divorce the one from the old house and give Natalie a proper title?"

There was a pause. Then Brynn said casually, "No rush. Sylvie’s father just passed. The inheritance hasn’t been divided yet. If I divorce her now, she won’t stand a chance against her brothers."

"And Natalie? You’re really going to make her raise that woman’s child for you?"

Brynn let out a sigh, irritation creeping into his voice.

"What else can I do? He’s my biological son. Sylvie begged me to give the kid a proper identity, so I used adoption as a cover."

"Natalie won’t be mad. She’s so in love with me; she’ll love my son just because he’s mine. Besides, I never planned to tell her the truth."

I leaned against the wall of the room, tears falling silently, pain searing through my abdomen wave after wave.

No wonder Brynn, who had always been indifferent to children, had recently kept bringing up a "late friend’s kid," saying how well-behaved and smart the child was.

He said if he had the chance, he’d really want to adopt him.

I remembered, when we first got married, how terrified he was about my health.

Every time he heard stories of women dying in childbirth, he would hold me close, tears in his eyes, begging me not to take that risk.

For seven long years, we never tried to conceive.

Lately, however, the way he spoke about children has changed.

That’s why, when I accidentally got pregnant this time, I hadn’t told him yet; I wanted to surprise him, to tell him I was keeping it.

I never imagined the surprise would become a slap in the face.

This child wasn’t a blessing. It was the crack that shattered the illusion of our marriage.

A sharp throb pounded behind my eyes. Pain twisted through my abdomen like a fist squeezing from the inside.

The world blurred. My ears buzzed. I gripped the doorframe just to stay upright.

“Natalie?”

Brynn’s voice cut through the ringing. He must’ve sensed something was wrong; he hung up at once, and his hurried footsteps drew closer.

Before I could move, he had already swept me into his arms.

“If you’re feeling weak, don’t speak.”

He pressed his forehead gently against mine. "I’ll call the family doctor. Your face is deathly pale."

I clenched my teeth and forced the lie through trembling lips. "It’s my period, the cramps, same as always. No need for a doctor."

Brynn let out a breath of relief, his shoulders loosening as he turned toward the kitchen.

"Lie down and don’t move. I’ll make you some ginger tea."

Soon, the clatter of bowls echoed from the kitchen, followed by the soft whoosh of the stove lighting.

He always peeled the ginger slowly, carefully, as if handling something delicate. Layer by layer, he made sure not a speck of dirt remained, just so the tea wouldn’t sting my throat.

He even tasted it first before handing it to me, just to be sure.

"Blow on it a bit before you drink." He squatted beside me, looking up at me with his usual gentle tone.

I took the ginger tea in my hands. It was slightly warm.

This man who had treated me so well, Brynn, the one I had loved for seven years, could he truly deceive me about something as sacred as marriage?

Could it really have been a hospital’s mistake?

I grabbed Brynn’s hand, searching his face as doubt swirled in my chest.

With a tentative smile, I asked softly, "Hubby, I went to sign up for a class today. They were running a promotion that said couples who showed their marriage certificate could get a discount. Where’s ours again?"

A flicker of tension crossed Brynn’s face. His voice came stiff, strained.

"How much of a discount could it really be? I’ll just pay for you myself. The certificate’s buried at the back of the safe; it’s a hassle to dig out."

The moment I saw his expression shift, my heart cracked wide open.

I placed the ginger tea down on the table. It tasted warm, but in my throat, it felt more suffocating than poison.