After Seven Years,I Was Never His Wife

“Soon, just wait a little longer. Didn’t I already bring Natalie to see Solomon?”

When I wasn’t around, Brynn didn’t push Sylvie away again.

“Brother, Solomon is still so young. I really can’t bear it. After all, I carried him in my womb for ten months.”

Her voice was soft, tinged with grievance, like a whisper soaked in tears.

“Mom really likes Solomon too. She says he’s just like you were as a child, smart, obedient, and easy to love.”

At once, the image of that mother-in-law who’d never spared me a kind word rose vividly in my mind.

The whole Murphy family, from top to bottom, had played me like a fiddle.

For seven long years, through every New Year, every holiday, they’d sat and watched me and Sylvie on either side of Brynn. Did they think their son was reliving some ancient fantasy, one wife, one concubine?

Downstairs, Brynn stood straight as a board, his tone laced with impatience.

“I’ve already promised you Solomon will have the status of the Murphy family’s grandson. That’s as far as I’ll go. Don’t get greedy. My wife will always be Natalie.”

Hearing that, Sylvie’s expression faltered for a split second, but in the next moment, she composed herself. As if nothing had happened, she lifted her hand and let her fingers slip beneath the hem of his shirt.

Her smile turned sultry, but her voice carried a sugar-coated complaint.

“I never asked for much. Being listed as your ‘wife’ on the household registry is enough for me. Brother, tell me, between her and me, who’s wilder in bed?”

My chest tightened as if my breath had been slashed by a dull blade.

I couldn’t stop myself from looking at Brynn, desperate to see how he would react.

But what I saw made my heart plummet, his gaze turned hazy, his pupils darkening, and his Adam’s apple moved slightly.

In the next instant, he shoved Sylvie against the wall at the turn of the hallway, lowered his head close to her lips, and muttered hoarsely, “Of course, it’s you. Who could be wilder than you?”

Sylvie giggled, her fingers lazily hooking at his chest.

I stood frozen at the top of the stairs, my grip tight on the handrail, my knuckles turning white.

Hearing that, what else was left to figure out?

Brynn and Sylvie had been together all along, behind my back. And they weren’t just sneaky about it; they were playing with fire.

I remembered how, once upon a time, when Brynn had been swept up in passion, he’d suggested trying something more adventurous. But I, shy and hesitant, had refused.

Back then, he hadn’t pushed me. He simply held me and promised he’d listen to me.

I had thought it was kindness.

Now, I saw it for what it was; every single thing I’d refused, he’d probably shared with Sylvie.

My heart froze, and I couldn’t bear to watch it any longer.

I stomped heavily down the stairs.

The sharp click of my heels against the floor broke the silence, and in an instant, they sprang apart.

Brynn shoved Sylvie away so quickly, as if nothing had happened, then turned to me.

“Why are you down here so soon, honey? Did you enjoy meeting Solomon?”

I saw right through his calm act, and something lodged in my throat, I couldn’t get a word out.

Happy? How could I be happy?

He handed me another woman’s child, expecting me to play the role of the kind, understanding stepmother. Did he think I’d jump at the chance?

I forced my voice to remain steady, though it felt hollow as I said, “I thought about it. I’ve decided not to adopt.”

The moment the words escaped, Brynn’s face went pale.

“Why, honey?”

I clenched my fists until my nails.

How old was Solomon?

Seven.

And I had been married to Brynn for seven years.

Which meant, the year I eagerly stepped into this marriage, he already had a child.

All those years, I’d feared having children, and he’d comforted me with promises of not needing them; his child had already been running around, growing up.

And now, as I had finally come to terms with having a child of my own, his child was about to start elementary school.

Why, Brynn?

Why didn’t you tell me?