His Unexpected Forever

Chapter Five: Two lines, Two Fates

Some mornings, I wake up and still wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Not just as a husband, or a businessman, but as a man tasked with carrying generations on his back. The pressure was never supposed to fall on me alone, but fate has its own sense of humour.

Daniel can’t father a child. Neither can Michael. They won’t say it out loud, but I know. Years of trying, of heartbreak, of silence between them and their wives. So it fell on me. I’m the only one who can produce an heir. It’s ridiculous if you think about it — all our resources, and in the end, it boiled down to biology. I didn’t want this role. I wanted to be a husband, not some vessel for tradition.

And then Betty. God, Betty. My heart still aches for her — for us. She’s strong, brave, beautiful, but… infertile. That word still makes my throat dry. We tried everything. Pills. Hormone therapy. Crying in the bathroom after negative tests. Watching her shrink in on herself. And then came the option we never wanted to speak of — a surrogate.

IVF felt too clinical. Too uncertain. Time wasn’t on our side anymore. But s*x — the most primal, certain method of conception. It felt wrong in theory. In practice, it felt… unavoidable.

So I chose Zara.

It had been five days.

The house was too quiet this morning. I stood in my study, scanning reports I couldn’t bring myself to read, when I heard it — a soft knock. Betty.

She entered without waiting, still in her robe, eyes tired, lips pressed into a line. “Zara took a test,” she said flatly.

My heart paused. “And?”

“She’s pregnant.”

The word dropped between us like a stone. No reaction. No tears. Just… silence.

“Alright,” I said finally. My voice was distant even to me. “That’s good.”

Betty didn’t respond. She just stood there, arms crossed, shoulders sharp. I hated this. Hated what I’d turned us into. She nodded again — that same nod from the night I told her — and walked out.

That night, I came home later than usual. The office had been draining, the weight of this secret life pressing hard on my back. I walked into the master bedroom. She had just stepped out of the shower—I could tell from the soft haze of steam still clinging to the room, and that familiar strawberry scent of her shampoo that always lingered like a memory. She stood by the vanity, her back to me, completely unaware of my presence. I saw my wife.

And I missed her.

“Betty,” I whispered her name under my breath, barely conscious of my own voice.

I didn’t wait for permission. I just moved.

She turned slightly, startled. “Nate, is that you?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. My body had already made the decision my mind hadn’t caught up to yet. I walked up behind her, unable to stop myself. Something about seeing her like that—bare, vulnerable, so effortlessly beautiful—shattered every wall I had been trying to hold up all week.

I bent down and pressed my lips to her neck, slowly, then hungrily. She let out a soft gasp and tilted her head to the side, giving me more. My hands found her waist, then her hips, then slid up to her breasts, claiming them like they were mine to own. And maybe they were.

“I love you,” I whispered into her ear, voice thick with everything I couldn’t say aloud.

She didn’t hesitate. “Show me.”

That was all I needed.

I turned her gently to face me, cupping her face in both hands before crashing my lips onto hers. It wasn’t a slow kiss—it was deep, consuming. The kind that leaves you breathless. She reached up, tangled her fingers in my hair, pulling me closer, pulling me under.

I bent down, kissing down her throat, letting my lips trail from her collarbone to her chest. Her n*****s hardened as I took one into my mouth, sucking gently at first, then deeper, my hand massaging the other breast. She gasped, arching into me, whispering, “Don’t stop…”

Her skin was warm beneath my tongue, her breathing uneven. I knelt in front of her, kissing my way down her stomach, tasting the curve of her hips, until I reached the place where she ached for me most.

I paused there, hovering, teasing her with slow kisses along her inner thighs. She trembled under my touch. I could hear the soft plea in her breath, and when I looked up, her eyes were glassy with desire.

“Nate… please…”

But I wasn’t ready to give her everything—not yet.

I let my tongue explore everywhere except the spot she craved. Her legs quivered, her hands dug into my shoulders. I wanted her to beg. I needed to hear it.

“Say it,” I murmured.

“Please… touch me. Nate, I need you.”

Only then did I slide my tongue over her c**t, slow at first, then with deliberate rhythm. She cried out, hips grinding into me, and I held her there, tasting every moan she gave me, until she was shaking, almost undone.

And then I rose to meet her again.

Without thinking, I lifted her up into my arms and carried her to the bed. I lay her down gently, her eyes never leaving mine, and then I entered her in one swift, hungry thrust.

She gasped, and I held still—just for a moment—feeling the warmth of her body wrap around me like a home I’d almost forgotten.

I moved inside her slowly at first, savoring the way she clenched around me, her hands gripping my back, her thighs locking me in. Our rhythm built—deep, raw, aching. With each thrust, our moans filled the space between us. I kissed her hard, then soft, tasting her lips between breaths.

“I love you,” I groaned into her neck, my voice hoarse and broken with emotion.

“I love you too,” she whispered, her voice catching as her release crashed through her.

The moment she came, I lost control.

I buried myself deeper, harder, my body trembling as I spilled into her. And when it was over, we didn’t move. We just held each other, our bodies slick with sweat and warmth and something far more intimate than s*x.

I brushed a strand of damp hair from her forehead and whispered against her skin, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

She smiled softly, her eyes glowing with something tender, and pulled me down for one last kiss.

Three days later, I found her in the bathroom, staring at a test stick.

I didn’t need to ask.

Betty turned to me, eyes wide, hand trembling.

“I’m pregnant,” she said.

Two women. Two pregnancies. Two futures I didn’t plan for. And for the first time in my life — I had no idea what the hell to do next.