FOUR YEARS RAISING MY INFERTILE HUSBAND'S SECRET FAMILY 의 모든 챕터: 챕터 1 - 챕터 10

"Mom, squares are for babies." Zane said it with the kind of seriousness only a five-year-old can pull off, watching Amelia cut his sandwich into two neat rectangles. "Since when?" "Since kindergarten." He said it like that settled the whole matter, like a judge closing a case. "Triangles. Everybody knows that." She cut it again, into four triangles this time, and slid the plate back in front of him. He looked it over, nodded once, and picked up a piece like he'd just signed off on a deal. It was a normal morning. That was the strange part. Nothing about it should have felt hard. She made Nathan's coffee the way she always did two scoops, not one and a half, her hands moving through the steps without her even thinking. Grind, pour, wait. She'd made that same cup so many mornings her body could do it half asleep, in the dark, without turning on a light. She packed Zane's lunch into his dinosaur lunch box the triangle sandwich, a small container of grapes cut in half so he wouldn'

Amelia didn't sleep that night. Not because she didn't want to. Because she couldn't. Beside her, Nathan's breathing had settled into the slow, even sound of a man with nothing on his mind. She lay staring at the ceiling, his question circling back again and again, the same six words on a loop she couldn't switch off. You'd tell me if something was wrong. Wouldn't you? Why had he asked that? Four years of marriage, and he'd never once asked her that before. Not when his business supposedly fell apart. Not the night Marcus made his cruel joke at dinner. Not even the night he told her, across their kitchen table, that he could never give her children. So why now? Why, two days after a receipt she'd told no one about, was her own husband suddenly checking her for cracks? And why did their five-year-old know a woman well enough to call her "the flower lady," easy as breathing, like it was nothing at all? Somewhere near three in the morning, she made a decision. She waited until Satur

The phone rang while Amelia was peeling potatoes. "Sweetheart," Grace said. "Nathan mentioned you seemed upset the other day." Amelia's hands stopped over the sink. Of course he called her first. Not to tell her why. Just enough to get his version there before Amelia's. "I'm alright," she said. "Are you certain?" "I've just been tired." The same three words she'd been leaning on all week. She wondered, not for the first time, how many marriages survived entirely on that one sentence. Grace went quiet for a second. "You know you can tell me anything." The guilt landed instantly. Not because she'd done anything wrong. Because she wanted to. She wanted to tell Grace about the florist receipt, the envelope, the boat, the way Nathan's face had gone still when he realized she'd seen something he never meant for her to see. "I know," Amelia said instead, smiling into the phone even though Grace couldn't see it. "Good. I worry about you two sometimes." "Why?" "Oh, marriage changes

Chapter 8 — Amelia's POV "Mommy." "Hmmm?" Amelia looked up from the toast. "I dreamed I had a pet volcano." "That sounds dangerous." "He was friendly." Zane climbed into his chair, dinosaur pajamas rumpled, socks not matching one blue, one with a hole in the toe he refused to let her throw out. "I'm glad to hear it." Nathan laughed from behind his coffee cup. "You've got your mother's imagination." Zane frowned, offended down to his bones. "I made it up myself." "Sorry." Nathan held up both hands. "I take it back." Zane nodded, happy again, and told them every detail of the dream how the volcano's name was Steve, how Steve only erupted when he was happy, how Steve slept in the garage because he was too big for the house. Nathan listened to all of it like it truly mattered. Asked questions. Smiled at the right parts. Anyone walking into that kitchen would have seen a normal family. A husband. A wife. A boy with jam on his chin. Amelia wondered, watching them, how many broken

The smell of roasting chicken filled the kitchen, but for Amelia, the air felt thick and hard to breathe in. Sunday lunch at Grace's had been the center of her whole week for four years nice plates, good food, the easy noise of family talking. Today, sitting at the polished table, it felt like standing on a stage, trying to remember lines nobody had ever given her. Across from her, Nathan was fully in his element. He could turn even a boring story about work into something fun, leaning back in his chair with an easy smile while Grace watched him with quiet pride. "So the vendor up north wrapped up early," Nathan said, setting his glass down with a small, clean sound against the wood. "Turns out their team just needed some firm direction to get things moving." "Firm direction," Grace repeated, smiling. "You always were good at handling difficult people, Nathan." Amelia looked down at her plate, pushing a carrot around with her fork. Up north. The words felt slippery now. "It take