Chapter 3

3 At the Thanksgiving dinner two months ago, we waited for Gwen for an hour. She finally showed up carrying a baby. The infant looked exactly like a carbon copy of Harrison.

Seeing my shocked face, Gwen explained he was her friend's child. She claimed the parents died in a car crash and the family sent him to an orphanage. She said she couldn't bear it and adopted him.

When I asked for the parents' names, she stammered. Before I could press further, her parents cut me off. "Grant, don't be so aggressive. Gwen is your wife."

"You should support her decisions," her mother added. "This child should motivate you to work harder. A real man provides for his family!"

I didn't want to argue, so I took on the responsibility. I worked myself to the bone, taking on side gigs until 2 AM every night to give them a better life. I never complained.

But looking at the nursing supplies on the floor, I felt like my heart had been fed to the dogs. I was so angry I didn't even hear Gwen opening the door.

I scrambled to throw everything back into the box. I wasn't ready for a confrontation yet. "Grant? What are you doing in there? I need the bathroom!"

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and opened the door. Gwen pushed past me impatiently. She froze when she saw the nursing bra on the counter, then tried to cover it up.

"These are just more comfortable," she explained quickly. "Way better than that lace stuff." I just nodded and tried to leave, but she grabbed my arm.

"Grant, did you touch my things?" she asked, her voice tight with tension. Her nails dug deep into my skin.