I FOUND MY SISTER WITH MY HUSBAND

Chapter Three: Two Babies

The phone hit the floor before I could fully process what Damian had said. Marisol picked it up immediately, looked at the screen, then at me. "Amelia? Did you hear what he said?"

I nodded slowly, but my mouth would not open.

"Sophia is pregnant too," I finally whispered.

Marisol's expression changed, and she sat down beside me on the bed. "Too? What do you mean, too?"

I looked down at my hands. I had wanted to keep my pregnancy to myself a little longer. I had wanted at least one thing in my life that belonged only to me. But I could not keep it from Marisol anymore.

"I'm pregnant," I said. "I found out yesterday, right before I came home and found them together."

For several seconds she said nothing. Then she slowly sat back. "You're pregnant. And she's pregnant. With Damian's baby?"

"Yes."

Marisol stood and walked toward the window, staying there a moment before turning back to me. "How is this even possible?"

I gave a weak laugh that sounded nothing like happiness. "I don't know." I truly did not know what to say. All I could think about were the two pink lines sitting inside my bag, and Damian's voice telling me he had been sleeping with my sister for almost two years.

My phone buzzed on the bed. Marisol glanced down. "It's him again."

"I'm not answering."

"You don't have to." She picked up the phone, looked at the screen, and turned it off completely. "You have heard enough for one day."

I lowered my head into my hands. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Marisol sat beside me again. "First, breathe." I took a shaky breath. "Then we figure everything else out one step at a time. You are not doing this alone."

Before I could answer, the bedroom door opened, and my mother walked in, looking worried. "What happened? I heard part of what you were saying."

I looked at Marisol, and she gave me a small nod. It was my decision.

"Sophia is pregnant," I said.

My mother's hand went straight to her chest. "Pregnant?"

I nodded. "With Damian's baby."

She slowly sat down on the chair beside the window. For a long moment she looked at the floor. "Two years," she said quietly.

I swallowed. "That is what Damian said."

Her eyes lifted to mine. "Your sister has been carrying on with your husband for two years, and now she is having his child, while you were spending years trying to have one of your own." Her words hit me harder than I expected. I looked away.

"I'm pregnant too, Mom."

Silence filled the room. My mother's eyes widened. "You are?"

I nodded. "I found out yesterday. I had not even told Damian."

She stood and came closer to me. "Does he know?"

"No."

"Good," she said, and I looked at her in surprise.

"Good?"

"Do not tell him yet."

"Why?"

"Because you need time to think before you let Damian into this part of your life." She took my hand. "Right now, he knows he has hurt you. If he finds out about the baby, he may use that to convince you to go back to him. He may tell you that you need to think about your child. He may promise you everything you want to hear."

"I do not know if he would do that," I said.

My mother gave me a sad look. "You thought you knew him too."

I had no answer, because she was right. I had spent four years believing I knew my husband. Two years of an affair had proved that I did not know him at all.

"Wait until you are ready," she said. "This is your pregnancy. Your decision. Do not let anyone rush you."

I nodded slowly. "Okay."

Later that evening, I sat outside on the back steps with a cup of tea Marisol had made for me. The sun was going down, painting the sky in soft colors, and for the first time since I had left Damian's house, everything around me was quiet. My phone was still turned off. I did not know how many messages were waiting for me, and I did not want to know.

Marisol came outside and sat beside me. "You have barely eaten today."

"I'm not hungry."

"You still need to eat something."

I looked at her. "You sound like my mother."

"Good. Then maybe you will listen." Despite everything, a small smile escaped me, though it disappeared almost immediately. I placed my hand over my stomach without thinking.

"I keep thinking about all those family dinners," I said. Marisol looked at me. "Sophia would sit across from me and smile like everything was normal. She would ask me how my day was. She would hug me before she left. Sometimes she would even tell me she loved me."

Marisol reached for my hand. "You did not know."

"She was my sister."

"I know."

"How could I not know?"

"Because you trusted her."

I looked down. "She stood beside me at my wedding." My voice cracked. "She watched me promise to love Damian forever."

Marisol squeezed my hand. "You cannot blame yourself for trusting your own sister."

I wiped my eyes. "I keep wondering if there was something I should have noticed."

"There was not."

"How do you know?"

"Because people who lie for that long learn how to hide things."

I looked toward the fading sunlight. "She was in my house, with my husband, while I was sleeping in the next room." Marisol did not answer. There was nothing she could say that would make that hurt less.

After a while, I whispered, "What am I supposed to do about my baby? Do I tell people I am pregnant? Do I raise this child alone? Do I divorce Damian? Do I ever go back to that house?"

She shook her head. "You do not have to answer all those questions tonight. Tonight, you just need to breathe and remember that you still have choices."

I nodded, but the questions remained. They followed me inside when the sun went down, into my bedroom, and stayed with me long after I turned off the light.

Before going to sleep, I turned my phone back on. I did not call anyone. I only wanted to see how many messages were waiting. There were more than forty. Most were from Damian, a few from Sophia. I did not open any of them.

Then I noticed a message from a number I did not recognize, and I opened it.

Amelia, this is Damian's mother. I need to speak with you. Please call me when you can. It is important.

I read it twice. Damian's mother — the same woman who had once stood in my house and called me barren, the same woman who had brought another woman into my home and told Damian she could give him the children I could not. She had never apologized. She had never called to ask how I was doing, not once. Now, after two years of my husband secretly sleeping with my sister, she suddenly wanted to speak to me.

I placed the phone on the nightstand. Whatever she wanted could wait until morning.

I lay back and stared at the ceiling. For the first time in almost two days, I allowed myself to stop thinking about Damian. I placed one hand over my stomach. There was still nothing to feel, no movement, no bump — just a tiny life I had waited three years for. My eyes filled with tears.

"Whatever happens," I whispered, "I will protect you."

I closed my eyes. For the first time since I discovered the truth, I was not thinking about what Damian had taken from me. I was thinking about what I still had: my baby, my future, and maybe, someday, myself.