For His Mistress, He Stole My Sight

Howard went to open the door. The second I heard the click of the lock, I froze. A woman’s perfume drifted into the room. My perfume.

I heard his voice drop to whisper, “You’re early. I told you tomorrow morning. Where’s the kid?”

“With her Nanny,” Amber said softly. “She’s fine. I… I can’t stay at that hospital another night. It’s cold there. I’m cold without you.” Her voice trembled, “I hate being away from you, even for a few hours.”

Howard’s tone shifted instantly. “Don’t start crying. You just got stitched up. Crying’s bad for you.”

I sat perfectly still on the couch, fingers brushing against the old paint stain on my sweatpants, pretending I was lost in thought about my unfinished canvas.

“Howard,” I called out, louder than necessary. “Who’s at the door?”

So we were pretending. Fine. I could pretend too.

A moment later, he brought her in. His hand found mine, warm and heavy, “This is Amber. I hired her to help you out. And to take care of the baby.”

Ah, their baby.

“She used to be my secretary,” Howard went on. “Got married last year. Had a kid. Now she’s back.” He paused like the next part was a kindness. “She’s had trouble with her eyes lately, so she knows how it is for you. Until she heals, she can help you find your way around.”

My eyes. He had the audacity to say that.

Amber stepped forward. “Nice to see you again, ma’am. I’ll be looking after everything from now on. You… and the baby.”

She leaned on that word so hard it was a dare.

I just nodded. “Thanks.”

No reaction for her to feed on. That must have annoyed her, because the next thing I heard was the wet sound of a kiss. Then another. Then the faint shuffle of fabric.

The sofa creaked. My stomach turned. I remembered the nights Howard used to pull me down on that same sofa, how my skin would break out from the rough fabric. We’d stayed up one night knitting a blanket together to cover it. I thought that had meant something.

Apparently not.

I stood without a word and made my way upstairs. My foot caught on the second step and I stumbled, landing hard in my room. I curled on the floor, my hands clutching my stomach as nausea clawed up my throat.

I gagged. Hard.

Footsteps followed. Howard’s shadow filled the doorway. “Faye. What’s wrong?” He touched my shoulder and the nausea doubled.

Then Amber’s voice, sharp with curiosity. “Wait. Are you pregnant? I thought shes on implant?”

Howard’s hand froze on me. “Faye… did you get your period this month?”

I shook my head.

“It’s always regular,” I muttered. “Probably just stress.”

He stepped back like my words burned him. “That’s… not possible. I was careful. And the doctor said…” His voice trailed. Then he straightened. “We’re going for a checkup tonight. If you are pregnant, we’ll take care of it before it’s a problem.”

Amber laughed quietly. Mean. Pleased.

So he would blind me for her child. But my child? Not allowed to exist.

“Why would it be a problem?”

He hesitated. “Because… I made a promise to someone. I said I wouldn’t have kids of my own until her daughter is grown.”

That was the best he could do.

“I’m not pregnant,” I said flatly. “Go buy a test if you’re so desperate to know. I’m going to sleep. Both of you get out.”

I heard them leave. My body sank into the mattress, heavy as stone.

I was so tired.

And this time, I didn’t even dream.

--

When I woke again, sunlight was already pushing through the curtains. My stomach grumbled, so I figured I’d head to the kitchen.

But as I walked past the guest room, I froze.

Soft moans. A man’s low voice. A woman’s breathless laugh.

Daylight. And they still had the nerve.

I felt sick. My hunger vanished. I turned back toward my bedroom, poured myself a glass of cold water, and tried to swallow the nausea.

I didn’t care to listen to whatever game they were playing. I just wanted Howard to leave so I could disappear from this house without anyone seeing.

The bedroom door opened without warning.

I stiffened. “Who is it?”

Amber’s voice came in, sing-song sweet. “It’s me, ma’am.”

My grip tightened on the glass. “What do you want?”

She stepped in like she owned the place. “Howard just changed his clothes. He’s heading to the hospital to bring the baby home. I thought I’d come see if you needed something.”

Her tone said otherwise. This was no courtesy call. She was here to poke at me, see if I’d bleed.

“I don’t need anything,” I said, turning away. “You can leave.”

She ignored me, came closer, and grabbed my wrist. Her nails bit into my skin.

“You want to know what happened on your sofa yesterday?” she said. “Or what we just finished doing in the guest room?”

She smiled like a knife. “Howard said he likes women who aren’t afraid to take risks. Not boring little birds stuck in a cage.” She leaned in, her voice dripping venom. “And the kid he’s bringing back? That’s mine. You’ll be raising my baby from now on.”