Pregnant and Playing Santa for My Husband's Mistress

"But Dr. Henderson specifically told me not to overexert myself in the later stages of pregnancy," I reasoned.

I tried to keep my composure. Arguing with them wouldn’t fix anything. And I wasn’t about to lose my cool in front of both of them.

As if on cue, Gianna tugged at Percy’s sleeve, her voice sweet and syrupy—just the right amount of polite, like she was playing the part of the thoughtful guest.

"Percy, forget it. If Brielle doesn’t want to, we shouldn’t force her."

At first, it sounded reasonable, even considerate. But I could hear the smugness underneath it all. It wasn’t genuine.

And, just as I expected, Percy took the bait.

His expression darkened, and irritation flared in his voice. "It’s just pregnancy, Brielle. Why are you acting so fragile?"

I froze.

For the first time, I saw him.

Not the man I fell in love with. Not the man who had begged me to have this baby, swearing he’d take care of me every step of the way. Not the man who promised me a future.

No. This was someone else.

A dull ache spread through my chest.

I never even wanted kids in the first place. It was Percy who pushed for it, who pressured me, who insisted on fulfilling his parents' dream of having a grandchild.

I’d given in, letting him have his way.

And now here he was, mocking me and belittling me all to impress some other woman.

God, I was exhausted.

I took a breath, letting it out slowly, trying to keep the anger in check.

"Yeah, you're right. I’m just too delicate," I said flatly.

There was no point in arguing. I knew the game by now.

Percy, looking smug, seemed satisfied with my submission. "That’s more like it."

He reached out and ruffled my hair like I was a kid, and my stomach twisted with disgust.

As if the evening couldn’t get any worse, Percy pulled something from the bottom drawer of the kitchen. For a second, a flicker of hope surged in my chest.

Our anniversary. Maybe, just maybe, he’d remembered.

But all that hope vanished when I saw what was inside the box.

A cheap, oversized Santa Claus costume.

So, this was my anniversary gift.

I didn’t move. Didn’t react. I just stared at it, feeling something inside me snap.

He had already erased me from his heart, hadn’t he?

Percy had become so sure I wouldn’t leave him, so sure of his control over me that he kept pushing, testing, breaking me. He thought I’d always be there.

But he was wrong.

I slowly closed the box, then looked up and met his gaze.

Calm. Steady. Unwavering.

"Percy," I said, my voice quieter now. "Let’s get a divorce."

His smirk faltered.

For the first time that night, he actually looked shocked. "What did you just say?"

His eyes flickered to my six-month pregnant belly, then back to me, disbelief setting in. "Are you sure you want a divorce?"

I could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

He was probably thinking, 'She’s pregnant. She’ll never leave. Not with a baby on the way.'

But I had to ask myself, 'Would I really want a child to grow up in this house? In this... relationship?'

A sharp pain knifed through my stomach, and I braced myself against the table. I refused to let him see me falter.

"I said," I repeated, my gaze locked on his, "Let’s get a divorce."

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating.

Percy’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. "You're being ridiculous."

Before I could respond, Gianna, sensing our tension, looped her arm through Percy’s and spoke softly, almost too sweetly.

"Percy, let’s go out for a bit."

Just like that, he didn’t hesitate. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t look back.

He grabbed his coat and headed for the door without a second glance. "Let’s go."

And with that, the door slammed behind him—loud and final.

The moment the lock clicked, the pain in my abdomen hit me like a wave, overwhelming and intense.

I barely managed to sink to my knees before collapsing onto the floor.

...

By midnight, Percy strolled back in like nothing had happened, completely unfazed.

I spent the whole afternoon writhing in pain, barely conscious. I might not have made it if it hadn’t been for the housekeeper to notice in time.

Dr. Henderson had rushed over, set up IV drips, and told me I needed to rest.

Percy stood in the doorway, looking genuinely surprised.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he asked, his voice laced with annoyance.

For a second, I thought I might actually laugh.

Tell him?

The housekeeper called him over and over. He didn’t pick up. Much worse, he turned off his damn phone.

I exhaled sharply, trying to hold myself together. "Wasn’t it you who ignored the calls?"

I shot back, closing my eyes, willing my emotions back down.

For once, Percy didn’t have an answer. Instead, he sat beside me, running a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

"Maybe my phone died while we were out," he muttered. Then, as if he could just brush it off, he added in a halfhearted tone, "Sorry."

But his remorse wasn't genuine. It was just the kind of apology cheaters and liars give—a half-assed excuse to cover their tracks.

He sighed. "I was wrong today. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. Forgive me, okay?"

Once upon a time, I would have without hesitation. Without thinking.

Because that’s how it always worked, Percy was always in control.

He was the golden boy. The untouchable campus heartthrob. The one I had spent years quietly crushing on. The one who vanished overseas without a word, just when I thought our story was over.

But then, years later, at twenty-eight, he showed up at my blind date.