Chapter 7
1140 Words
Chapter 7
Playing the Perfect Wife
Valerie learned quickly that she could ask for anything.
It started small, almost reasonable. A glass of water. A blanket because the room felt cold. A different pillow because the one she had was too firm. Each request came with the same soft smile, the same careful tone that painted her as fragile and grateful.
I gave her everything.
“Daphne,” she called one morning from the sofa, one hand pressed to her stomach. “I feel a bit dizzy. Do you think you could make me something light? James said I should eat regularly.”
“Of course,” I replied, already turning toward the kitchen.
Evelyn watched from the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp. She never intervened. Never offered to help. She simply observed, measuring my responses like I was still being tested.
I prepared oatmeal with fruit and ginger tea, setting the tray carefully in front of Valerie.
“You’re so good to me,” Valerie said, her voice sweet. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“I want you to be comfortable,” I said.
James came in moments later, tie half done, phone in hand.
“Oh,” he said, surprised. “You didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to,” I replied.
He smiled, visibly relieved. “You’re amazing.”
Valerie met my eyes over the rim of her cup.
She enjoyed this.
As the days passed, her requests grew bolder.
“Could you come with me to my appointment?” she asked one afternoon. “James has meetings all day.”
“I can rearrange my schedule,” I said.
At the clinic, she spoke loudly about cravings and exhaustion, about how difficult pregnancy was without a partner. Nurses smiled at her sympathetically. James was mentioned often. Anthony was never mentioned at all.
In the car afterward, she sighed dramatically. “I don’t know how you went through IVF so many times. You’re so strong.”
I kept my eyes on the road. “Everyone handles things differently.”
She laughed softly. “I guess my body just… works.”
The words were deliberate.
That night, she cried at dinner.
“I miss Anthony,” she said suddenly, dabbing at her eyes. “He would’ve been such a good father.”
Evelyn reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “This baby will carry on a legacy. That’s what matters now.”
James nodded solemnly. “You’re not alone.”
All eyes turned to me again.
I smiled. “You’re not alone,” I repeated.
Valerie sniffed. “Thank you, Daphne. I know this can’t be easy for you.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
It was not fine.
But I did not break.
The house adjusted around Valerie like she was the center of gravity. Her needs dictated schedules. Her moods dictated meals. If she was tired, the house quieted. If she was hungry, food appeared.
And always, Evelyn watched.
“You’re doing well,” she said to me one evening, almost reluctantly. “Most women would struggle with this.”
“I’m managing,” I replied.
Celeste was less subtle.
“I don’t know how you can stand it,” she said, sipping wine. “Having her here. Pregnant. All the attention.”
I met her gaze calmly. “She needs support.”
Celeste studied me for a moment, then laughed. “You’re unbelievable.”
Valerie pushed further.
She leaned into James whenever she could. Laughed too loudly at his jokes. Reached for his arm when she stood. Once, I caught her resting her head briefly against his shoulder in the kitchen.
James stepped back immediately, glancing at me.
I smiled and turned back to the stove.
Later, Valerie found me alone in the pantry.
“You’re very composed,” she said quietly. “I thought you’d be more… emotional.”
“I don’t see the point,” I replied.
Her eyes glittered. “Doesn’t it hurt? Watching me carry what you couldn’t?”
The cruelty was naked now.
I met her gaze steadily. “I’m glad the baby is healthy.”
She tilted her head. “You really are something, Daphne.”
That night, she complained of pain.
“I think something’s wrong,” she said dramatically, clutching her side. “James, I’m scared.”
He was at her side instantly. “What do you need?”
Valerie looked at me. “Could Daphne stay with me tonight? I don’t want to be alone.”
Evelyn nodded sharply. “That’s a good idea.”
I spent the night on a chair beside her bed while she slept peacefully, occasionally murmuring James’s name. I did not close my eyes once.
In the morning, she smiled at me brightly. “See? Nothing happened. False alarm.”
James looked apologetic. “I’m sorry you had to stay up all night.”
“It’s fine,” I said.
Evelyn watched me carefully, as if waiting for resentment to surface.
It never did.
Valerie began telling lies casually.
“James said you offered to move rooms,” she told Evelyn one afternoon.
“I didn’t say that,” I replied calmly.
“Oh,” Valerie said lightly. “I must’ve misunderstood.”
She smiled at me like we were sharing a joke.
At dinner that night, she said, “Daphne insists on doing everything herself. I feel so spoiled.”
James laughed. “She’s always been like that.”
Evelyn nodded. “A good wife puts others first.”
I cut my food carefully and said nothing.
Inside, everything was calculated.
Every meal I cooked. Every appointment I attended. Every smile I offered. I catalogued it all. The lies. The looks. The moments when Valerie crossed lines just to see if I would react.
I never did.
Because breaking was what she wanted.
And I refused to give her that satisfaction.
On the fifth night, as I helped Valerie settle into bed, she caught my wrist.
“You’re very good at pretending,” she said softly.
I leaned closer, my voice just as quiet. “So are you.”
Her smile faltered for half a second.
That was enough.
I turned off the light and closed the door behind me.
In the hallway, Evelyn stood watching.
“You’ve handled this beautifully,” she said. “I’m impressed.”
“Thank you,” I replied.
She nodded once and walked away.
I stood there alone, the house silent around me.
They thought I was enduring.
They thought I was sacrificing.
They thought I was playing the role they assigned me.
They were right about one thing.
I was playing a role.
But it was not the one they thought.
And when the final act came, I would still be standing.
- Writer
