Engaged to my Ex-husband's Outcast Uncle

ELAINE’S POV

"Elaine." Betty set down her tea. "Have you gained weight again?"

She didn't even say good morning. She just looked at me with that expression of disgust.

I was standing in the kitchen doorway in my work clothes, a navy blazer over a pencil skirt I had ironed the night before, and I swear the woman's lips curled before she even opened her mouth.

I smiled. "Good morning, Betty. Would you like more tea?"

"I'm serious." She turned on her stool to fully face me.

"That skirt does nothing to hide your bulging stomach, you can see it from here!”

She sighed and shook her head. “Richard never says anything because he's too kind, but I'm your mother. I'll tell you the truth."

She wasn't my mother. But I didn't say that. Seven years of marriage to her son had thought me to think twice before saying anything to her face.

"I'll look into it," I said softly. "You're right, I should be more careful with what I eat.”

"She's been like this since the wedding." Lara's walked in still scrolling her phone, and not bothering to look at me.

"I told Richard before he even proposed. I said, she’s only going to get fatter. Did anyone listen?

No."

"I'm working on it," I said again, smiling still. My cheeks were starting to hurt. "I've been busy with the quarter-end reports but I'll start going to the gym again, I promise."

Lara finally looked up from her phone. She tilted her head, something like pity crossing her face.

"It's not even just the weight. It's the energy. You always look tired, Elaine.”

My throat tightened. "Lara, please-"

"She's not wrong," Betty said calmly, lifting her tea again. "A woman who looks after herself attracts a husband who stays home."

The kitchen was quiet for a second.

I forced a laugh and shook my head . "You're both so funny," I said. "I hear you. I really do."

A knock at the front door saved me and I almost cried from relief.

It was Stanley and he was punctual as always.

"That's my secretary," I said, already reaching for my handbag. "I have an early meeting."

Betty sighed like I personally offended her ancestors. "This job." She shook her head. "You treat it like a husband, Elaine. You know what you should be focused on? Children. Richard is not getting younger. We are not getting younger."

She gestured between herself and the air, as though the entire family lineage was sitting in the kitchen waiting. "You lost a baby once but it’s been years now, move on from it already.

Hundreds of women go through miscarriages and still get pregnant!”

My chest was getting impossibly tight and my hands trembled but still… I forced myself to smile.

"I know," I said. "You're right."

I kissed her cheek then Lara's. Both of them were stiff and didn’t return the gesture. "I’m sorry I can’t see you both out but have a lovely morning."

I walked out. The door clicked shut behind me and something in my chest cracked open.

I made it to the second step before my eyes blurred. I pressed my lips together hard and stood still on the front step, breathing through my nose.

“Not here.” I whispered shakily. “Not in front of the gate.”

But my body wasn't listening. My shoulders caved first, then the breath came out wrong and I was crying before I could stop it.

"Madam." Stanley was there immediately, holding the car door open. “Take your time."

"I'm fine." I whispered even though I wasn't.

He handed me a small pack of tissues from his jacket pocket without a word. I almost laughed at how prepared he was.

I took one, pressed it under my eyes, and stared at the hibiscus hedge until my breathing evened out.

"Those women," Stanley muttered under his breath.

"Don't." My voice came out sharper than I meant it.

"They mean well."

He made a sound and it was not quite agreement.

"They love Richard," I said, folding myself into the back seat. "And they're worried. That's all it is."

Stanley closed my door gently and walked around to the driver's side. When he got in, he didn't start the car immediately. He just looked at me through the rearview mirror.

"It's not your fault," he said. "The... you know. The baby situation. It's not your fault, Madam."

I looked out the window. "Drive, Stanley."

He drove and I spent the first five minutes of the ride thinking about what they said.

Maybe if I lost the weight, the stress would reduce. Maybe if the stress reduced, my body would cooperate.

Maybe if my body cooperated, Betty would look at me differently. Maybe if Betty looked at me differently, our mornings wouldn't be like this.

I pressed my fingers against my temple and exhaled slowly.

"So," Stanley said, clearly deciding the silence had gone on long enough. "The Innovation Awards tonight , we confirmed you're collecting the’ Tech Entrepreneur of the Year’ trophy. Third year in a row, Madam."

He said it proudly, like it was his award too. "They'll probably want a speech."

"Mm." I hummed.

"Third year," he repeated, as though I hadn't heard. "You know how many people would give their right hand for one year? And you've built the whole thing from scratch! All by yourself."

I bobbed my head. "I heard you, Stanley."

He went quiet again then he added in a softer tone. "You deserve to feel good today. That's all I'm saying."

I picked up my phone and opened Richard's contact.

‘Hey, big day today. Miss you.’ I typed it, stared at it, then sent it before I could second-guess the neediness of it.

I watched the two grey ticks for a long moment. They stayed grey and I sighed.

It was three days already and there was no call or text. He had gone to Oregon for a business thing and I hadn’t heard anything from him since then.

I told myself he was in meetings and that time zones were difficult even within the country.

We pulled into my office buildings parking lot and I straightened my blazer, checked my face in my compact.

With a sigh, I stepped out of the car.

"Good morning, Ms. Williamson!" The security guard beamed at me like I was sunshine.

"Morning, Jules." I smiled back and it almost reached my eyes.

Two junior staff members by the entrance turned and waved. The receptionist inside stood straighter when she saw me through the glass.

I smiled and waved, greeting them with the same level of enthusiasm but I didn’t miss the way their eyes raked me. Or the amusing tilt as they stared at my stomach.

In the elevator, it was just me and Stanley, I stared at the floor numbers blinking upward.

"Stanley."

He turned to me. "Madam?"

"Why do you think I chose a man as my secretary?" I asked.

He blinked. "I... never really thought about it."

"I've had four female secretaries." I watched the numbers. "I caught the first one calling me President zombie in a group chat because I don't wear makeup on Fridays. The second one told someone in accounting I probably ate my feelings.”

I chuckled wryly and shook my head. “The third one she said she felt sorry for my husband and the fourth one just forwarded my weight to a gossip blog.”

Stanley looked genuinely horrified. "Madam, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine." And I meant it, mostly. "People will always have opinions. The only one that matters to me is Richard's."

The elevator slowed. "He's never once made me feel like anything less than everything."

I felt warm saying it because it was true.

Seven years and he had never raised his voice, or made a cruel joke about my body or even pressured me for a child.

He still chose me, every day. The elevator dinged and phone buzzed at the same time.

It was a text from an unknown number and I almost didn't open it.

But curiosity tugged at me and I tapped the image as I stepped out of the elevator.

It was a photo and there were two figures; a man, leaning into a woman whose face I couldn't make out.

His hand was at her waist and her head was tilted toward his.

Below the image, a single line of text,

“While you're collecting awards, darling, your husband is collecting something else… ask him where he really is tonight.”