All Chapters of FOUR YEARS RAISING MY INFERTILE HUSBAND'S SECRET FAMILY : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

The washing machine was already running when Amelia found it. She'd checked Nathan's coat pockets the way she always did before a wash. Loose receipts. Gum wrappers. A forgotten business card once in a while. She'd done it a thousand times and never thought twice about it. This time her fingers closed around a folded piece of paper that felt different right away. Crisp. New. The kind of paper that hadn't been crushed in a pocket more than once or twice. She almost didn't think anything of it. Almost. But something in her hand already knew, before she even unfolded it, the same way you know a stove is hot a half-second before you touch it. Some old instinct underneath thinking, underneath reason, that recognized the shape of a thing that was about to hurt her. She unfolded it anyway. Of course she did. You can't un-ring that bell once it's rung. Two dozen white lilies. An address two hours north. A name at the bottom — R. Marsh — that meant nothing to her, and somehow, in me

Amelia's POV (Third Person) "You're home early." Nathan set his keys on the counter and crossed the kitchen to kiss her, one hand warm against her cheek, lingering there a second longer than usual. "Wanted to see you," he said. "Is that a crime now?" Amelia let him kiss her. She'd been letting him do a lot of things the last three days — come home early, bring back her favorite croissants from the bakery downtown, hold her hand a beat too long before he left for work. Three days of a man being almost too good to her. "You've been sweet lately," she said. "I'm always sweet." "You've been extra sweet." She studied his face. "Should I be worried about that?" He laughed, easy, and reached for the fridge. "Can't a man just be nice to his wife?" "Depends on the man." "Ouch." He pulled out a carton of orange juice and drank straight from it, which he never did when Grace was around, and poured her a glass without being asked. "Fine. I've been thinking I don't say it enough. That I a

Amelia's POV (Third Person) "Mom, the floor is lava." Amelia looked down at Zane, who had both feet planted carefully on a blue tile in the middle of the crowded waiting room, arms out for balance like he was crossing a tightrope. "Is that so." "Don't step there. You'll die." "Good thing I'm an excellent jumper." She hopped to the next tile with as much drama as she could manage, and Zane burst out laughing, the real kind, the kind that made his whole small body shake. Three seats down, another little boy was doing the exact same thing, his father hopping along behind him with the exhausted commitment of a man who'd clearly done this dance before. Zane watched them with something close to reverence. "I think he's right," Zane whispered. "I've always thought the floor looked dangerous." "Can I pretend too?" "You absolutely may." For ten straight minutes they balanced on blue tiles, dodging invisible lava, until a nurse called a name that wasn't theirs and the game quietly end

Amelia's POV (Third Person) "Nathan already left?" Zane asked, wrestling with his jacket zipper. "He had an early meeting." "Oh." He frowned, focused on the zipper like it had personally wronged him. "I wanted to show him my spelling test." "You can show him tonight." "I got every word right." "I'm very proud of you." He beamed at that, chest puffing out a little. "Mrs. Harrison said I have neat handwriting." "I've been telling you that for years." He finally won the fight with his zipper and threw both hands up. "I did it!" "You certainly did." Amelia laughed and took his hand as they walked to the car, his fingers fitting into hers the way they always did, so naturally she couldn't quite remember what her hand had felt like empty. The whole drive to school was volcanoes again. They'd moved on from dinosaurs sometime this week without officially announcing it. She didn't mind. Kids repeat what they love without apologizing for it — a habit adults spend years trying to unlea