One Night with the Candidate's Wife

“What are you doing here?” Wesley’s voice dropped to a whisper as she pushed against the heavy bathroom door. Her hand froze on the handle when Caleb’s arm blocked it. “I thought” she looked around quickly, her heart hammering in her chest. Caleb leaned in, close enough for her to smell the faint cologne mixed with alcohol on his breath, “I’m back, baby,” he said softly, his lips curling in something that wasn’t quite a smile, “Let’s continue from where we stopped.” Her stomach lurched, “Move,” she said firmly, but her voice trembled. He tilted his head, eyes dragging over her face, “You look beautiful as always. Motherhood suits you, though…” he let the words hang, eyes glinting, “…are you sure Marcus is really the father?” Her throat tightened, “Don’t you dare.” “I will dare, unless you give me what I want.” Her fingers clenched around the strap of her purse. She wanted to slap him, scream, anything, but people were around outside, laughter echoing through the hall. One wrong move and someone would walk in, she forced her voice low, “You’re disgusting.” He chuckled softly, “And yet, you let me in once.” The words cut like knives. She shoved past him, her heels clicking too loudly as she hurried back toward the light spilling in from the ballroom, I’m in so much trouble, she thought to herself, swallowing hard. The lights nearly blinded her when she stepped back inside. Music, laughter, the clinking of glasses. The world hadn’t changed, though everything inside her had. Marcus was still shaking hands with donors, that practiced smile on his face. His voice carried over the crowd, warm and convincing, “Family values,” he was saying, “that’s what built this country, and that’s what will carry us forward.” The irony stung. Wesley pressed her lips into a smile as she joined him, forcing herself to look normal, her stomach still twisting. “Baby, are you okay?” Marcus bent to kiss her cheek, his eyes searching hers for only a second before someone else called his name. “Of course,” she lied, forcing her voice steady, her fingers tightening around her clutch, nails digging into the leather. Marcus leaned closer, whispering, “You don’t seem okay, did something happen before?” “Not, really,” Wesley replied, forcing a laugh that sounded brittle even to her own ears, “just… a little tired, I guess.” He studied her for a moment, eyes soft, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” She forced a nod, hiding the tremor in her hands, “I know, baby, just… focus on your guests, don’t worry about me.” Marcus’s hand brushed hers briefly at the small of her back as he turned to shake another supporter’s hand, “Alright, but later, okay? I want my baby smiling again.” “Of course,” she said again, voice quiet, almost to herself. Inside, panic clawed at her chest, but she forced her lips into a polite smile. “Wes, you’re glowing tonight,” one of Marcus’s aides said, coming close, “being the first lady of this state would really suit you.” “Thank you, that’s why you all need to support my husband,” she said with a smile, her eyes flicking to Marcus Jr., who was chasing a balloon across the room, his laughter high and pure. It should have brought her comfort, but instead, Caleb’s words echoed, Are you sure Marcus is really the father? “Hey, go get him,” she said calmly to the nanny sitting at the other table. Marcus’s voice came from the other side of the table, “Wesley, don’t look so serious, come on, smile for me.” She lifted her lips in a small, forced curve, trying to match his tone, “I am smiling,” she said, barely above a whisper. At the same table, James was watching. He knew her too well. The pale look on her face wasn’t just from the champagne. He leaned back, slid his phone from his pocket under the table, and typed quickly, You okay? Wesley’s phone vibrated against her hand. She glanced down, her heart pinching. She typed back, Yes, then deleted it. Her fingers hesitated, hovering over the screen. She locked it and slipped it back into her clutch, shaking slightly. When she finally looked up, James’s eyes were still on her. Not accusing, not prying, just steady, like he could see through the mask. Wesley looked away first, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. Jenny, James’s wife, didn’t notice. She was too busy laughing a little too loudly at a joke one of Marcus’s aides made, her hand brushing his arm as she reached for her wine, “Another?” the man asked. “Why not?” Jenny’s smile stretched, but it didn’t reach her eyes. James’s jaw tightened. He shifted in his chair, watching his wife pour herself into conversations that excluded him. Wesley caught it. The distance between James and Jenny was no secret tonight. She wanted to ask, wanted to say something, but her own world was cracking fast enough. She stayed silent, sipping her wine, mind spinning with Caleb’s words from the bathroom. “Ladies and gentlemen,” the host announced. The chatter dipped. Marcus stepped forward, the spotlight finding him, applause rippling through the room, “My friends,” Marcus began, his voice smooth, practiced, the kind of voice that had won him supporters long before the election trail, “Tonight is not about me, it’s about us, about loyalty, unity, family, integrity.” The words made Wesley’s chest ache. She forced herself to clap along with the others, smiling at the right moments, her palms sweaty, pulse racing. But her eyes strayed to the back of the room. Caleb was there, leaning casually against the wall, glass in hand, calm and deliberate. His gaze didn’t waver. Slowly, he lifted his glass in a silent toast, his eyes locked on hers. Wesley’s pulse spiked, she dug her nails into her palm to keep steady, every nerve screaming. Every instinct told her to run, but she was trapped, surrounded by people who would never guess what was happening. The applause roared around her, but all she could hear was the echo of his words from the bathroom, Let’s continue from where we stopped. She clapped harder, her smile frozen, praying no one saw her knees tremble, “Go baby!” she shouted, but her thoughts raced, how could he know where she was, how long has he been following her, would he actually dare to tell Marcus? She pressed her fingers into her clutch, trying to steady herself, Marcus’s voice rang out across the room, “Family values,” he said, smiling at a couple in the front row, “that’s what built this country, and that’s what will carry us forward.” Wesley forced a smile, nodding along, “It’s not possible,” she whispered to herself, “Marcus Jr. is Marcus’s, there’s no way Caleb could be the father.” Yet her chest tightened with a cold doubt that refused to leave. Marcus Jr. bounced excitedly in his chair. “Mommy! Daddy’s so cool!” “Yes, baby,” Wesley said, crouching slightly to hug him, hiding her trembling hands, “let’s cheer for Daddy, okay?” “Go daddy!” Marcus turned slightly toward the crowd, noticing Marcus Jr.’s enthusiasm, “See, folks? Our next generation is already leading!” he said, giving the little boy a wink. The crowd chuckled warmly. Wesley laughed softly along with them, though her stomach churned. Every smile felt forced. “Did you hear about the campaign car that got stuck in the mud last week?” Marcus asked, “You should have seen my driver trying to push it like a scene from a comedy movie, we all ended up laughing on the road!” The donors laughed, and Wesley forced a giggle. Her pulse raced, eyes flicking toward the back of the room. Caleb leaned against the wall, glass in hand, calm and deliberate. His gaze didn’t waver, pulse spiking. Wesley forced herself to breathe, to clap when the crowd did, to look engaged, her mind running a hundred steps ahead, calculating every move. James, sitting beside her, stared at her, knowing fully well that something must be wrong. Marcus Jr. squirmed. “Mommy! Catch me!” he ran off to the back. She looked around from where she was sitting down, “Where is he?” she thought, panic rising. She turned again, he was in Caleb’s arms. Caleb held him effortlessly, looking calm, almost playful, and her chest tightened. She forced her mind to focus. Could Caleb…? No, it’s impossible. My son is a playful kid, this is nothing. Still, the thought lingered. The applause of the room washed over her, meaningless. Marcus continued on stage, oblivious, his voice smooth and steady, praising loyalty and family. Wesley’s eyes darted back to Caleb, who held Marcus Jr. a little higher, watching her as though nothing else mattered. “Go and get him,” she said to the nanny.