Off The Record
My Husband Brought A Pregnant Stranger Home And Said, “She’ll Live With ”Us”—His Secret Shattered My World
With a pregnant girl following him and a suitcase in one hand, my husband entered. “She’ll live with us,” he said. When she began treating me like a stranger in my own house, I realized I needed to find out who she truly was to him, even if he claimed she was family.
When our front door creaked open, I was chopping onions for supper. I paused when I heard that sound because Drew normally enters the garage after work.
Using the back of my forearm to wipe my eyes, I exclaimed, “Drew? That you?”
He was not alone as he appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. A young woman, no older than 23, was standing behind him, holding a suitcase tightly in one hand while hooking her other hand over Drew’s arm.
She was expecting a child. extremely pregnant. And I felt sick to my stomach as she gazed at my spouse.
“I’m Mia. She is a member of the family.” Drew stated in a bland, matter-of-fact voice, “She has no one else.” “So she’s staying with us for a while.”
Like that? No conversation, no warning?
At that moment, the girl moved forward, but she hardly gave me a glance. She kept staring at Drew as if he were magnets.
“Hi,” I made an effort to grin. “I’m Olivia.”
Mia gave a single, stiff, thin-lipped nod. “Thanks for letting me stay.”
Throughout dinner, I made an effort to strike up a discussion, but Drew cut me off with evasive, contemptuous responses.
I was able to speak with Drew alone for the first time when Mia excused herself early.
“Honey,” I said. “Don’t you think Mia seemed a little uneasy? Wouldn’t she be more content in a shelter that offers pregnant women resources?”
Drew’s shoulders tensed, and his eyes had a piercing quality to them that I hadn’t noticed in years of marriage.
He yelled, “She will live with us!” “It’s not up for discussion.”
In fact, I retreated a step. Drew never spoke loudly to me.
I didn’t push it, though. I was glad to assist Mia, who was pregnant and in danger. She was staring at my spouse, and I didn’t like it.
Mia had taken over my kitchen, and it was more than just appearance.
She was able to cook Drew’s favorite foods flawlessly and somehow knew what they were. She folded laundry, set the dinner table without being asked, and laughed at all his stupid jokes.
Mia was also deceitful. She was always saying “please” and “thank you” when Drew was around. However, her tenderness disappeared when he was not present.
My patience gave out at that point.
Determined to gain answers, I cornered Drew in the corridor that day.
“How exactly are you and Mia related?” I inquired.
Drew avoided looking at me. “It’s complicated.”
I pushed, “Drew, I need more than that,” “She resides in our home. I believe I have a right to know her true identity.”
I was left standing in the hallway with more questions than answers, though, as he simply left.
My inability to fall asleep late one night was the tipping point.
I noticed light streaming from the living room as I was making my way to the kitchen for some tea. Through the doorway, I looked.
Our old photo books were strewn all over Mia as she sat cross-legged on the floor. One was open on her lap as she traced over Drew’s face with one finger while gazing at photos of him from his college days.
Muttering to herself, “I was supposed to be here a long time ago,” she said.
What was meant by that? I wanted to barge in and ask her, but I didn’t want to argue with a pregnant woman who was about to give birth.
However, Drew’s justification that “she’s family” no longer made sense. One awful option was suggested by her strange familiarity with him and the way she regarded him as if he were hanging the moon.
Was his mistress Mia? Was that child his?
I felt terrible at the concept, but that was the only reasonable explanation. In the hopes that things might become more apparent in the morning, I went back to bed. I would have to make Drew tell me the truth if it didn’t.
That night, I didn’t get any sleep. My husband needed to come clean the next morning, but I had been patient and had given him the benefit of the doubt.
After saying, “I know what this is,” I went into the kitchen. “I know who she really is.”
Wide-eyed and pallid, Drew looked up from his coffee. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb with me!” I yelled. “Do you own that baby? Are you attempting to have your pregnant girlfriend take my place?”
Drew’s expression of amazement was so sincere that I briefly questioned my own judgment. Then his face became stern.
He said, “You’re being ridiculous,” but he avoided making eye contact with me.
“Then tell me the truth!” I insisted. “Tell me who she really is and why she matters more to you than I do!”
Coffee spilled over the rim of Drew’s mug as he slammed it down. “I might want to leave if you continue to act like the enemy. Perhaps I ought to go with her.”
I was shocked by what I had just heard.
After a moment of staring, I turned around and went upstairs to our bedroom.
I was done if this was the state of our marriage. After taking my luggage out, I began packing.
A piercing cry came from downstairs just as I was about to finish. Then another, this time more frantic.
I let go of the clothing I was carrying and took off running. Mia was being helped onto the couch by Drew, who was already in the living room. She had a pallid, pain-twisted face.
She clutched Drew’s arm and whimpered, “It’s happening,” “The infant. It’s on the way!”
In a moment, all of my rage vanished. Now, it didn’t matter what secrets Drew and Mia were concealing or what was between them. This woman required assistance because she was in childbirth.
I said, “I’ll get the car keys,” and started to head toward the kitchen.
We assisted Mia to the car after Drew retrieved what I believed to be a hospital bag she had prepared. With the exception of Mia’s wheezing in the backseat, the drive to the hospital was tense and silent.
The nurses at the emergency room quickly got Mia into a wheelchair after taking one glance at her.
Desperately, she clutched Drew’s arm as they began wheeling her into the delivery wing.
She pleaded, “Please,” her voice cracking. “Will you join me? I’d rather not be by myself.”
I froze. I could only conclude that I had been correct when I saw Mia clinging to Drew in the delivery room as if he were her own. Mia’s baby’s father was Drew.
Drew paused. The nurses began to push Mia’s wheelchair away, but he gave me a tormented look in return.
“She’s carrying your child, isn’t she?” Before I could stop myself, the words exploded from my throat. “The child I couldn’t give you.”
Drew’s expression fell flat. “No, Liv. It’s not like that, I promise.”
Down the corridor, Mia let out another cry. “Drew!”
After giving her a quick glance, he hurried over to me and thrust a folded piece of paper into my hands.
“Read it,” he said eagerly. “Please. Liv, have faith in me. I vow to explain everything later, but I can’t let her handle this alone.”
I was left alone in the sterile waiting area as he vanished beyond the double doors. With shaky hands, I unfolded the paper and slipped into one of those terrible plastic chairs.
My breath caught at what I saw. At the top of the page was the letterhead of a DNA testing laboratory. Mia’s name was printed just beneath Drew’s, and at the bottom, in bold, was the words, “Probability of paternity: 0%.”
The results of the paternity test showed that Drew was not Mia’s father!
For what seemed like hours, I gazed at the document, attempting to figure out what it meant. I could hear the squeak of sneakers on linoleum, intercom announcements, and soft voices all around me in the waiting room.
I felt as like I was in some weird limbo between my previous life and whatever was ahead as I sat there with that test result.
Drew appeared worn out when he finally came out of the delivery wing.
He said, “She’s okay,” and sank into the chair next to me. “The baby has arrived. A female.”
Between us, I held up the paper. “Who is Mia? What made you believe she was your daughter?”
Drew exhaled deeply and used both hands to wipe his face. Then he began to speak, and everything changed as he gave me the story.
“At a college party, I got to know Sarah, Mia’s mother. You know, we had a one-night thing. After that, I hardly remembered her name.”
Drew went on, “Sarah never told me she was pregnant,” “She traveled around a lot and raised Mia by herself. However, Sarah revealed to Mia that I was her biological father prior to her passing a few months ago. She informed Mia that I lived here and gave her my entire name.”
The parts began to fit together. “So, Mia came looking for you.”
Drew gave a nod. “Liv, she was desperate. Homeless, pregnant, and all alone. She had a dream in her mind that she would eventually discover her biological father and start a family.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I inquired.
“First, I wasn’t sure if it was true, and then I wasn’t sure how.” It’s been difficult that we couldn’t have children, and you know how much I’ve wanted them. His tone faltered. “I was both hopeful and guilty for wanting it to be true. What if I was able to become a father at last?”
Then I got it. There was nothing romantic or treacherous about Drew’s protectiveness and his desperate attempt to assist Mia. It was about shame and hope, and the long-delayed dream of parenthood.
“I ordered the DNA test right after she moved in,” Drew explained. “But I only got the results today.”
“Does Mia know?”
Drew gave a headshake. “First, I wanted to speak with you. When I tell her, will you accompany me?”
My heart was heavy with a hundred different feelings as we headed back to the delivery room. Mia was raised up on the hospital bed inside, looking pale but radiant, as new mothers tend to be. She held the little, flawless baby in her arms.
Drew cleared his throat. “Mia, I got the test results back.”
In her eyes, I saw both terror and hope.
“I’m not your father,” said Drew softly.
Mia hung her head and her face fell. “So it was a lie, just like every other story I believed.” She embraced the infant tightly. “I really thought… this time, maybe…”
I was heartbroken by the destruction in her voice.
This young woman was confronting the world alone with a newborn child after losing her mother, her house, and her dream of reuniting with relatives.
I moved forward without giving it any thought. I gently placed the hospital blanket over her legs after reaching for it and folding it at the end of her bed.
“Family isn’t always blood,” I expressed. “I can relate to your need for a sense of belonging. Remain with us.”
With tears running down her cheeks, Mia gazed up at me. “You mean it? The way I treated you after all I did?”
I remarked, “You were scared,” “You perceived me as a rival for Drew’s attention because you believed he was your father. I understand.”
I took a seat in the chair next to her bed and ran a finger over the baby’s velvety cheek.
“Have you picked a name?” I inquired.
Mia nodded while using the back of her hand to wipe her face. “I hope. Hope is her name.”
In that silent hospital room, the three of us sat there as something equally significant and real, rather than as mother, father, and daughter.
Having been brought together by circumstance and kept together by choice, we were three individuals who had discovered one another when we most needed each other.
Whispering, “Welcome home, Hope,” I said.
Additionally, for the first time in weeks, the word “home” seemed appropriate for what we were creating together.
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