“Hi, I’m Estelle Merritt-Ashford,” Estelle said. “I’m here to register for prenatal care. Here are my insurance and identification cards.”

Estelle smiled as she said it. She had been smiling since last night, when, finally, after years of waiting, the test came back positive.

She slid two cards across the counter. It was Lucas’s family plan.

Estelle knew how it worked. She knew the routine. Hand over the cards, answer the questions, and wait for the paperwork. Easy.

The nurse took the cards and typed in the numbers. Then she stopped and gave Estelle a complicated look.

“This policy already has an open maternity file,” she said after a moment of silence.

Estelle smiled, thinking how considerate her husband was. Of course Lucas had set it up early. He always thought ahead and took care of things before she even had to ask. That was the kind of husband he was.

“Then my husband set it up early. That’s fine.”

The nurse pressed her lips together. She looked at the screen, then back to Estelle.

“No. The mother on the file isn’t you.”

“Say that again,” Estelle said, confused about what the nurse had just said.

“I’m not finding you on this policy at all, Ms. Merritt. The only person listed under Lucas Ashford’s family plan is Vanessa Cole. Are you sure this is your insurance?”

Estelle’s smile froze. The waiting room was loud, as a baby cried somewhere. People talked in hushed voices while a TV played a show no one watched.

“The account is under the person named Lucas Ashford.” The nurse read it off slowly. “But the person he registered as patient and wife is Vanessa Cole. First scan’s already done. She’s about twelve weeks along.”

Vanessa Cole. She’d never heard that name before. But the nurse was looking at her like she should know. Like Estelle was the last person in the world to find out.

Twelve weeks.

Estelle had found out she was pregnant last night. She stood in the bathroom, a test in her hand, and laughed. Tears brimming in her eyes. The doctors had told her years ago it would likely never happen. Ten percent, maybe even lower.

Yet she still fell pregnant.

And now, standing in a hospital waiting room, she learned that Lucas’s other wife was twelve weeks along. That meant Vanessa had been pregnant for three months. That meant Lucas had been planning this, or at least living it, while she was desperately hoping, praying, still taking tests that always came back negative.

“Miss, there must have been a mistake. That’s impossible. I’m his wife.” Estelle was surprised by how even and calm she sounded.

The nurse slid the cards back toward Estelle.

“You can check with the insurance owner,” the nurse said, giving Estelle a pitying look as if she already knew what Estelle would find out.

Estelle left the waiting room in a daze. She couldn’t understand what just happened. Did the nurse read the record wrong?

Just as she stepped out of the hospital, she saw a familiar figure walking with a woman toward the parking lot. Her husband of five years had his hand on the small of a woman’s back.

He walked slowly, matching the woman’s steps as if he was afraid she might fall. The woman beside him was small and dark-haired. She glowed, and one hand rested on her small baby bump.

Estelle sucked in a breath as if she was hit with a physical blow. In five years of being with Lucas, he had never held or looked at her the way he did with that woman. He was holding the woman as if she had always belonged there.

Estelle didn’t know how or why, but she followed them.

She could go home, pretend she hadn’t seen anything. She could wait for Lucas to come home and ask him about his day, and he would lie. She would believe him, and nothing would change.

The thought made her sick.

She hailed a cab and asked the driver to follow her husband’s car. The car took them across town to a club she’d never been to before. It was an exclusive club, and Lucas had a card.

Five years of marriage, and Estelle realized she barely knew her husband.

She gave the receptionist Lucas’s name, and it worked. That told her something too.

Inside was low light and music. Estelle kept herself small and hidden. Lucas and the woman slid into a booth with two other men. One of them, Estelle recognized. He was Lucas’s best friend, Travis—the best man during their wedding.

Estelle took the booth behind them, her back to them, and ordered a drink she didn’t bother to touch.

The woman leaned into Lucas’s shoulder as if she naturally belonged there. He turned his head, kissed her crown, and said something low against her ear. The woman smiled—an easy and satisfied smile of a wife.

Travis had always been loud. His voice carried over the music.

“Still can’t believe you pulled it off, Lucas,” Travis said with a grin. “Five years and Estelle never once checked?”

“Why would she?” Lucas sounded bored. “Estelle trusts whatever I tell her. Hand her a certificate, and she files it and forgets it.”

“But it’s not even real.”

Estelle’s hands trembled against the glass she was holding. She set it down before she dropped it. She stared at it because she couldn’t stare at them. She couldn’t tune them out and make herself stand up and leave.

“It’s real enough to keep her quiet and obedient,” Lucas said. “The one registered for real is Vanessa’s. So the day I get tired of Estelle, I could easily cut her off. No divorce. No settlement. There was never a marriage to begin with.”

Someone laughed. Estelle wasn’t sure who it was. She wanted to stand up and turn around. She wanted to throw her drink in Lucas’s face and humiliate him. But she didn’t. She sat very still and counted to ten before standing up and walking out of the club as if she had never been there at all.

The Civil Registry Bureau closed at five, but she arrived half an hour early.

The woman at the desk was kind, but tired. Estelle requested a copy of the marriage certificate. She wanted to see if the nurse was telling the truth. She wanted to see whether a certain Vanessa Cole was listed as Lucas Ashford’s wife, not her.

“Here’s the record.” The woman turned the monitor. “Marriage license for Mr. Lucas Ashford.”

Estelle stared at the screen. She stood rooted in place. She read the wife's name.

Vanessa Cole.

“Can I request a certificate of no marriage as well?” she asked the clerk, already filing another form.

The clerk issued a certificate of no marriage in her name within a few minutes.

Estelle Merritt. No marriage records.

Her name looked small on the page. She stared at it for a long moment, her thumb instinctively searching the blank space after ‘Merritt’ where ‘Ashford’ should have been. She had signed that fake title on a hundred documents. But here, in official black ink, five years of her life vanished into nothing.

Estelle held the paper with trembling hands. She had used his last name for five years. She signed her name with his on a hundred forms and papers. None of it had ever been written down on one paper that should have had it.

“No…” She stepped back. Her legs shook. She had to grab the edge of the counter to keep from falling. “This can’t be.”

***

Estelle went home and sat on the edge of the bed.

The papers were still in her bag.

Night had arrived, but her husband—no, her fake husband hadn’t come. Estelle let out a weak laugh, then burst into tears. He was probably too busy tending to his real wife.

Five years of her life wasted on a man who she thought loved her.

She lay in bed that night, her hand on her stomach. She had waited years for this baby—spent five years staring at single lines on test strips, believing her body was broken. This was her little miracle. She wanted this child more than life itself. But carrying Lucas Ashford’s heir while another woman wore his ring would tie her to his lie forever. She couldn’t keep it. Not like this.

She decided to go back to the hospital the following morning. She had chosen to end it and walk away clean. A baby would complicate things and would tie her down to Lucas. She wanted nothing to do with him any longer.

The doctor was an old woman with grey hair. She pushed her reading glasses up as she checked Estelle’s record and scans.

“I can schedule the procedure, Ms. Merritt,” the doctor said. “But I want to be honest with you. You should know this.”

“What is it, doctor?” Estelle asked. She clenched her fists on her lap, aware of how hard her heart was pounding against her chest.

The doctor put down the papers and folded her hands.

“Your lining is very thin. It always has been. That’s mostly the reason why you struggled to get pregnant. A pregnancy like this one is already a miracle for a body like yours.”

Estelle was silent for a moment. But if she wanted a clean break with Lucas, the baby should go too.

“I understand the risk, doctor.” Her words came out even, but she couldn’t stop her hands from trembling.

The doctor noticed. Estelle knew. And for a moment, neither of them said anything.

“I don’t think you do.” The doctor met Estelle’s eyes. “If we end this one, I can’t promise there will be another in the future. This could be your only chance ever to carry a child.”

Estelle opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Her hand reached her still flat stomach.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

She hated those words. She had never been this indecisive before.

She stepped outside the hospital, feeling lost. Estelle didn’t know what to do next.

She walked along the sidewalk towards the pedestrian lane. Lost in thought, she ignored people walking past her. All she could think was how Lucas lied to her. How he betrayed and used her. How she wanted to hurt them as much as they hurt her.

Estelle had just stepped into the pedestrian lane when a horn rang, and tires screamed.

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her back. She slammed against the solid chest of a man.

“You almost died,” he said. “That would have been a waste.”

He didn’t let go immediately. When she looked up, he was already looking down at her.

Estelle opened her mouth to thank him, but the words died in her throat. Her grip on her arm remained firm. He wasn’t looking at her with the casual concern of a bystander. His dark eyes searched her face intently—as if he had been looking for someone like her for a very long time.