Married in front of my husband's first love's grave

My chest heaved as I turned back to the woman clinging to my husband's arm. The memories I had buried for six years violently clawed their way up my throat.

"You planned this," I hissed at Hannah. "From the very beginning."

Hannah blinked, her expression a mask of perfect innocence. "Whatever do you mean, Thea?"

"You held my hand!" I screamed, kicking the coffee table. "Let’s talk about that hospital room, Hannah. The monitors beeping. The pale makeup you wore to look sicker. You coughed, grabbed my fingers, and squeezed them tight."

"It was a very convincing performance," Hannah agreed, a sickening note of pride in her voice.

"You made me swear on our friendship," I yelled, the betrayal burning my lungs. "You told me you were terrified of dying alone. You said Irving needed a good woman. You said you wouldn't rest in peace unless we were married."

Irving adjusted his cuffs, his face entirely blank. "Keep your voice down, Thea."

"No!" I shoved his chest hard. "We stood in the freezing rain in front of a slab of granite! We exchanged vows over an empty grave because you wanted to honor her memory!"

"It was a necessary gesture," Irving replied.

"It was a sick joke!" I fired back. "My shoes sank into the mud. I held an umbrella over you, Irving, while you stared at her name carved in stone. I thought you were broken. I thought my love could fix you. But you knew she was in Switzerland the entire time."

Irving didn't flinch. "Her treatment required absolute secrecy."

"And the baby?" I asked, my voice shaking uncontrollably. "Was Joe part of the master plan too?"

"Hannah's medication made her infertile," Irving explained calmly, as if discussing a quarterly earnings report. "We needed an heir."

I stumbled back, my knees trembling. The twisted pieces finally clicked together.

"The night Joe was conceived," I whispered. "You came into my bedroom. You smelled like cheap bourbon."

Irving clenched his jaw. "Enough."

"No, we are going to talk about it!" I shouted. "You grabbed my waist. You pushed me into the mattress. You closed your eyes tight and whispered her name in my ear."

Hannah smiled, a tiny, victorious curve of her lips. "He always loved me best."

"I cried silently in the dark," I continued, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. "But I stayed. Because I was your wife. I thought it was just the grief talking."

Irving crossed his arms, offering no apology.

"When the test turned positive, you bought me flowers," I said, a bitter laugh tearing out of me. "Yellow roses. My favorite. You kissed my forehead. I actually thought you had finally moved on."

"I was pleased with the result," Irving stated.

"I spent eight months decorating the nursery," I cried. "I painted the walls blue. I bought tiny socks. And then I caught you in the study."

Irving sighed, annoyed. "You shouldn't have been eavesdropping."

"I brought you chamomile tea!" I yelled. "The door was cracked open. You were holding that silver-framed photo of her. You stroked the glass of the frame."

I pointed a trembling finger at him. "You said, 'Hannah, we're having a baby. Our plan worked.' I dropped the mug. It shattered everywhere."

"You were always clumsy," Irving dismissed.

"I realized I was just a breeding mare," I snarled. "A surrogate you didn't have to pay."

Hannah stepped out from behind him, smoothing her hair. "And you served your purpose beautifully, Thea."

"You stole him from me!" I roared, the pain of that day hitting me with fresh, agonizing force. "Twenty hours of labor. You didn't even hold my hand. You stood by the window checking your watch."

"I had a board meeting," Irving defended.

"He came out screaming," I sobbed, wrapping my arms around my empty stomach. "They cleaned him up. They wrapped him in a blanket. They handed him to me for exactly three minutes."

"That was the agreement," Hannah said.

"I never agreed to anything!" I shrieked. "Irving walked over, snatched the bundle out of my arms, and walked out the door."

"He belonged with Hannah's parents," Irving insisted.

"I bled through my sheets!" I screamed, dropping to my knees on the rug. "I pulled the IV needle out of my vein. I crawled on the linoleum tiles. I grabbed your ankle in the hallway."

"You ruined a good suit," Irving muttered, looking down at me with disgust.

"I begged you to give my baby back!" I cried, staring up at his cold eyes. "I crawled on the floor and begged you. And you kicked my hand away."

"I told you to be obedient," Irving repeated his exact words from that horrible day. "I told you it was Hannah's wish. That was the deal."

"And I spent five years paying for it," I whispered, pushing myself up from the floor. "Five years of driving to her parents' house. Five years of sitting on their plastic-covered couch, watching my son play on the rug."

"We allowed you visitation," Irving said.

"You allowed me to watch him forget me," I snapped. "Her mother served stale cookies. Her father sat in the armchair, timing my visit with a pocket watch. If I tried to read Joe a book and he fussed, they snatched him away."

"They were protecting him," Hannah chimed in.

"They were erasing me!" I yelled. "Every month, he grew colder. Every month, he looked at me less. You taught him to hate me. You told a five-year-old boy that his own mother was just a babysitter."

Hannah smiled brightly. "He just knows who his real mother is."