Betrayal in Her Pregnancy

The pregnancy test trembled in my hands, two pink lines confirming what my body had been whispering for weeks. I stared at it, a strange mixture of joy and apprehension flooding through me. After last year's miscarriage, I'd been afraid to hope again, but here it was – another chance.

I pressed my palm against my still-flat stomach, imagining the tiny life growing inside. Would Hunter be happy this time? During my last pregnancy, he'd been so... distant. Missing doctor's appointments with claims of overtime work, showing little emotion when I lost the baby. I'd told myself he was processing grief in his own way, that men sometimes struggled with these things.

"This time will be different," I whispered to myself, tucking the test into my pocket. I would create the perfect moment to tell him – a romantic dinner at home, his favorite meal, and then the news that would surely bring us closer.

I spent the afternoon preparing everything meticulously. Beef Wellington – his favorite – roasted asparagus, and a chocolate soufflé for dessert. I couldn't drink wine, of course, but I'd bought his favorite Cabernet and set the dining room with candles. The table looked beautiful, like something from a magazine spread, and I felt a flutter of hope.

Hunter was in his home office on a call when I finished setting up. I was about to knock and tell him dinner was ready when I heard his laugh – that particular laugh he reserved for his close friends. It made me pause, hand hovering inches from the door.

"Yeah, the application's practically approved already," he was saying, voice carrying clearly through the door. "Three years in Singapore, man. The perfect escape."

Escape? From what? I lowered my hand, listening more intently.

"You know how it is," Hunter continued, chuckling. "Alana's been talking about kids again, and I can't deal with all that pregnant wife drama, the midnight cravings, the mood swings. Not to mention actually having to care for a screaming baby afterward."

My heart stuttered in my chest. I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself.

"Exactly!" Hunter's voice rose with excitement. "That's why this assignment is perfect timing. By the time I get back, any kid would be out of diapers at least. Let her handle all that messy stuff. I'm too young to be trapped in that kind of life."

The room seemed to tilt around me. Trapped. That's how he saw fatherhood – as a trap. How he saw me – a burden.

I must have made a sound, because suddenly the conversation stopped. The office door swung open, and Hunter stood there, phone still in hand, his expression shifting from surprise to irritation.

"I'll call you back," he said into the phone before hanging up. "Were you eavesdropping?"

The accusation in his voice sparked something in me – a rare flash of anger cutting through my shock.

"I came to tell you dinner's ready," I said, my voice unnaturally