Ex-wife, Remarry Me with Your Children

His sweetheart. It’s always about Lucy. That’s always his excuse, the same one he used to fool me, every time.

Where could I possibly vent my anger? I had no outlet, no one to listen.

But that night, something unexpected happened. Spencer came home early.

"Tiffany, come here," he called out to me.

His voice, that same condescending tone he always used, grated on my nerves. The mere sound of it filled me with disgust.

"Spencer, what’s with you today?" I snapped back, my patience already wearing thin. Since the night he violated me, my feelings for him had soured. There was no longer any illusion of a happy life together.

His dark, brooding eyes fixed on me, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at me.

"Go get checked tomorrow to see if you’re pregnant. Aunt Zeina told me you haven’t had your period this month."

My heart skipped a beat. Why was he paying such close attention to something so personal? Panic surged through me. I had been so consumed with writing lately that I hadn’t kept track.

I tried to brush it off. "It’s probably just a hormonal imbalance. A lot of women experience this, it doesn’t mean I’m pregnant."

My words came out shaky. I felt a twinge of guilt for not knowing myself, but a part of me was also shocked, wondering what I would do if I actually was pregnant.

If there was a child, an innocent caught in this twisted situation, I’d have to make a plan.

Spencer wasn’t giving me any room to breathe. "I’ll take you to the hospital. Let’s go."

His voice lacked its usual coldness, which caught me off guard. He headed for the door, as if there was no question about it.

I sighed. There was no avoiding it now. I had to face the possibility.

At the hospital, I noticed something strange when we finally got the results.

Spencer smiled.

For the briefest moment, I thought I was imagining it. Was he happy?

I hesitated, unsure whether I should ask him what he was thinking. But before I could speak, he turned to me and said, "We’ll be in this together. Call me if you need anything and be careful at home."

"Hmm..." I mumbled, surprised by his tenderness. How many times had I imagined this kind of conversation? Nevertheless, I never thought it would happen at the door of a hospital, under such tense circumstances.

The elders in the family were the happiest, of course. Once they confirmed the pregnancy, they were overjoyed.

Spencer’s behavior changed too. He no longer treated me as coldly as he had before.

However, one thing hadn’t changed. He still liked staying out all night.

During the day, though, he would take me shopping for baby supplies. I watched him rush around, buying things for the baby, loading the car with bags. For a brief moment, I thought maybe he finally remembered that he had a wife and a child on the way.

But it was only an illusion. After dropping me off at home, he started changing clothes again, preparing to leave.

"Are you going out again?" I asked. I didn’t know where I found the courage, but I had to ask.

He paused, meeting my gaze for a moment. There was something in his eyes, perhaps a flicker of panic. He quickly looked away.

"I need to make money for our child’s future. These social engagements are important."

For once, he didn’t scold me for asking, didn’t make me feel like I was intruding on his affairs. He actually explained himself.

"Then be careful," I said softly. I didn’t dare ask him to come home early. I didn’t want him to think I was asking for too much.

When he left, all I had to accompany me was the sound of the door closing behind him.

In early June, the weather was clear and bright. That day, I finally gave birth to a big, healthy, baby boy. The delivery was smooth and everyone was overjoyed. Even Spencer, who smiled like I’d never seen before, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The Yateses threw a grand celebration for our son’s christening. The house was full of guests, everyone bustling about in excitement. But I never expected that on this day, all my fantasies were shattered.

A man walked into the party, immediately capturing everyone’s attention. His name was Levi Scott, a man with a mischievous smile.

As soon as Spencer’s parents saw him, their faces lit up. They treated him with a strange mix of warmth and intimacy that made my stomach turn. What was going on?

Before I had time to process it, Levi approached me, his smile still firmly in place.

“Hello, Tiffany,” he greeted me. “You’ve worked hard to give Spencer such a strong son.”

He reached out and gently touched my son’s chubby cheek. His words sounded normal enough, but there was something off about the way he said them. I just couldn’t tell why.

"Hello ... " I replied awkwardly, unsure of how to continue the conversation.

Levi didn’t seem to mind. He flashed his signature smile again, waved his hand dismissively and turned his attention to Spencer.

As the party continued, I noticed something unsettling. The bedroom where Spencer used to sleep — the decorations, the furniture — everything was done according to Levi’s preferences.

Then I overheard Spencer, speaking with rare patience. "So, how is it? Do you like it?"

The words hung in the air and I was left standing there, trying to make sense of everything.