BETRAYAL

Giselle's POV

“Well,” the doctor said cheerfully, “she’s two months along, and the baby is doing great.”

Two months.

Two. Months.

I froze, the heartbreak of the revelation crashing down on me like a tidal wave. Becky wasn’t just pregnant, she had been pregnant long before I found out about my own child.

“Two months,” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible.

I stared at the ceiling, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place in my mind. Patrick had been lying to me for weeks, if not months. Every late-night meeting, every business trip, every excuse—it had all been a cover for his affair with Becky.

I swallowed the sob threatening to escape and forced myself to stay silent.

Patrick Hilton, my husband, wasn’t just cheating on me. He had gotten her pregnant, too.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. All I could do was lie there, my world crumbling around me as I listened to the man I loved play the role of doting father-to-be for another woman.

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. The pain was grounding, a sharp reminder that I wasn’t dreaming. This was real.

 My mind screamed to stay hidden, to remain silent, but the rage coursing through my veins was unstoppable.

“How could you?” I whispered to myself, my voice trembling with anguish and fury.

My heart pounded as I swung my legs off the bed. The cold floor sent a shiver up my spine, but I ignored it. My entire body was trembling as I tried to stand. The moment my feet hit the ground, a sharp, searing pain shot through my abdomen.

“Ah!” I gasped, clutching my stomach as I bent over, barely able to keep myself upright.

I sank to my knees beside the bed, my arms wrapped protectively around my belly. The baby… my baby. The thought terrified me, but I couldn’t stop now. I needed answers. I needed to confront him.

My breathing came in shallow, uneven gasps as I pressed my forehead to the side of the bed, trying to manage the pain. My head swam with betrayal and the physical ache of what I had just heard.

On the other side of the room, the conversation continued, oblivious to my silent breakdown just a few feet away.

“Patrick, I’m craving cupcakes,” Becky said, her voice laced with a playful whine. “Can you come with me?”

I gritted my teeth, the sound of her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

“Fine,” Patrick replied, his voice calm and even, as if the world wasn’t shattering around him.

The doctor’s voice chimed in, cheerful and professional. “Well, we’re ready for your blood test, and we’ll get those cupcakes on the way.”

The casualness of their exchange sent another wave of nausea rolling through me. My fists clenched against the floor, nails digging into my palms as I fought to hold myself together.

Then it happened.

Through my tear-clouded eyes, I saw Patrick’s shadow shift. His face appeared in the gap between the curtain and the wall, his features tense as his eyes scanned the space.

For a fleeting moment, I thought he had seen me. My heart stopped as his eyes seemed to meet mine, a flicker of uncertainty flashing across his face.

But then Becky’s voice pulled him back. “What’s wrong?”

Patrick’s gaze faltered, his brow furrowing slightly. “Nothing,” he murmured, shaking his head.

He turned back to Becky, dismissing whatever instinct had made him look in my direction. But that brief moment of hesitation—of doubt—was enough to ignite something inside me.

He almost saw me.

He almost knew I was here.

I sat on the floor, hidden by the curtain, my breaths shallow and ragged. My hand rested on my stomach, the sharp pain still lingering but dulled by the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Cupcakes,” Becky said again, her tone light and carefree. “I’m dying for some chocolate ones. The baby wants them, too.”

The baby.

My stomach churned as the reality of her words settled over me like a suffocating blanket. Patrick wasn’t just with her—he was invested in her, in their unborn child.

And I was nothing to him anymore.

I closed my eyes, tears spilling down my cheeks as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. This couldn’t be happening.

Becky continued, “Pat, I’m craving cupcakes,” Becky’s voice was light, almost playful, as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

“Fine,” Patrick replied, his tone clipped.

The doctor chimed in, “Well, we’re ready for your blood test. Afterward, you two can grab those cupcakes on your way out.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, the sound of their casual conversation making my stomach churn. My mind replayed what I had overheard moments earlier. Two months. Becky was two months pregnant.

Patrick Hilton wasn’t just cheating on me—he had gotten his childhood friend pregnant.

I pressed a hand to my stomach, the thought of my own pregnancy twisting painfully in my chest. My free hand gripped the bedsheet tightly as a wave of nausea and despair threatened to overwhelm me.

The curtain shifted slightly, and for a brief moment, I thought Patrick’s gaze flickered toward my side of the room. My heart stopped. Has he seen me?

“What’s wrong?” Becky asked, her voice curious.