My Husband Chose His Mistress Over Our Baby

I was glowing. That's what Mom kept saying at the shower. 'Look at you, Scarlet. You're glowing.' She touched my face like I was made of something precious. Like I might break if she pressed too hard.

I didn't feel breakable. I felt solid. Seven months pregnant, my belly round and tight, and I felt like I'd finally built something that couldn't be taken apart. A life. A real one. The kind my parents had. The kind where love was steady and small and showed up every single day.

Mom threw the shower at her house in New Jersey. The living room was full of women I'd known my whole life. Aunts. Cousins. My best friend from college. They drank mimosas and I drank sparkling water and everyone laughed at the tiny onesies with the dumb slogans. 'I'm the reason Mommy drinks.' 'Daddy's little tax deduction.' I folded each one carefully and put them in a gift bag.

Ethan, my older brother, stuck his head in once to grab a beer from the garage fridge. He saw the pile of gifts and shook his head. 'You're gonna need a bigger apartment,' he said.

'We'll manage,' I told him.

He looked at me for a second longer than usual. Then he nodded and left.

I stayed until four. Mom wanted me to stay for dinner, but I was tired. My back hurt. And I wanted to show Rowen the onesies. I wanted to see his face when I pulled out the one that said 'Made with Love.' I wanted him to put his hand on my belly and feel the baby kick and tell me everything was going to be perfect.

I drove back into the city with the gift bag on the passenger seat. Traffic was light. The sun was low and gold through the windshield. I felt full. Not just my belly. My whole chest. My whole life.

I let myself into the apartment with my key. It was quiet. Rowen's shoes were by the door. His jacket was on the chair. He was home.

'Rowen?' I called softly.

No answer.

I set the gift bag on the kitchen counter and walked down the hall. The bedroom door was half open. I pushed it the rest of the way.

Rowen was in our bed. Cassandra was under him.

I stopped breathing.

They didn't hear me at first. Then Rowen turned his head. His face went white. He scrambled off her so fast he nearly fell. Cassandra sat up and pulled the sheet to her chest. Her lipstick was smeared. Her hair was everywhere.

'Scarlet—' Rowen started.

I couldn't move. I stood in the doorway holding a bag of baby clothes and stared at the two of them in my bed. In the bed where I slept every night. In the bed where we'd made the baby.

'It's not—' Rowen said. 'It's not what it looks like.'

Cassandra made a small sound. A sob. She covered her face with her hands. 'I'm so sorry,' she whispered. 'I'm so sorry, Scarlet. I was drunk. I didn't mean—'

'She came over,' Rowen said quickly. He was pulling on his pants. His hands were shaking. 'She was upset. She had too much to drink. She—she came onto me. I tried to stop her, but—'

'I'm so sorry,' Cassandra said again. She was crying now. Real tears. Her mascara ran down her cheeks. 'I don't know what I was thinking. I'm such a mess. I'm so, so sorry.'

I looked at Rowen. He looked back at me. His eyes were wide and wet and desperate.

'It was one second,' he said. 'One stupid second. I swear to God, Scarlet, it will never happen again. I love you. I love you and the baby. This was nothing. It was a mistake. Please.'

Cassandra stood up. She wrapped the sheet around herself and moved toward the door. Toward me. 'I'll go,' she said quietly. 'I'm so sorry. I'll leave. You'll never see me again.'

She walked past me. I smelled her perfume. The same perfume she always wore. The same perfume that was on Rowen's shirts sometimes when he came home late.

I stood in the doorway. My back hurt. My belly was tight. The baby kicked once, hard, right under my ribs.

Rowen came closer. He didn't touch me. He just stood there, shaking, waiting.

'Please,' he whispered. 'Please, Scarlet. Don't do this. Don't throw away everything we have. It was nothing. I swear. It was nothing.'

I looked at him. I looked at the bed. I looked at the baby clothes in my hand.

I thought about calling my mom. I thought about packing a bag. I thought about walking out and never coming back.

But the baby was coming in two months. I had a crib on order. I had a hospital bag half-packed. I had a life I'd spent years building.

I couldn't take it apart. Not now. Not this close.

So I made myself believe him.

I made myself believe it was one mistake. One drunk night. One stupid second.

I made myself believe that when the baby came, everything would be different.

'Okay,' I said quietly.

Rowen's face collapsed with relief. He reached for me. I stepped back.

'But she doesn't come here again,' I said. 'Ever.'

'Never,' Rowen said. 'I promise. Never again.'

I turned and walked back down the hall. I put the baby clothes on the kitchen counter. I went into the guest bathroom and locked the door.

Then I sat on the floor and pressed my hands to my belly and told my baby that everything was going to be okay.

I told myself the same thing.

I was wrong.