Chapter 4 Episode 4

Based on the size of the clothes Sophie had picked, their so-called "baby " had to be at least a year old.

A year old.

That would mean Sophie had been pregnant shortly after she and Caleb got married.

The realization hit her like ice water.

Her chest tightened, breath catching as a sharp ache spread through her ribs. It was a betrayal she hadn't even imagined possible-one that made everything else look small by comparison.

All this time...

While she'd been fighting for a place in Caleb's life, Sophie had been growing in it.

Emma's fingers curled instinctively around the soft baby outfit she still held in her hands. Her grip was trembling.

She couldn't be here, not another second.

She turned and walked toward the exit in a daze, but was suddenly stopped by a cheerful shop assistant. "Ma'am, are you ready to check out? I can pack that up for you."

Emma blinked, realizing she was still holding the tiny onesie. Her voice came out hoarse.

"No... I don't want it anymore."

But it was too late.

Behind her, a familiar voice rang out, sickeningly sweet.

"Emma? What a surprise."

She froze.

Sophie.

Of course.

Of course she had seen her the moment she stepped inside. She must've followed her in, acting surprised just to twist the knife deeper.

Emma turned slowly, forcing her face into something calm. She wouldn't give Sophie the satisfaction.

"Small world," she said, voice tight. "But I'm not feeling well, so I'll leave you to it."

She turned to go but Caleb suddenly stepped in front of her, frowning. "Why are you out of the hospital?"

She almost laughed.

He remembered she'd been in the hospital? What an honor.

She stepped back, her tone clipped. "Because I'm not a prisoner. And I needed air."

He reached out as if to steady her, but she brushed his hand off without hesitation.

"My child isn't some meaningless burden. I don't need your permission to buy a baby blanket. And I certainly don't need your concern now."

Caleb's brows pulled together in a scowl. "Stop being dramatic. If anything happens to that baby because you're out running around-"

"I know the consequences," she snapped. "You've made that crystal clear."

Just then, a second shop assistant walked up, smiling awkwardly. "Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, we have a new collection in stock today. Would you both like to take a look?"

She was talking to Sophie.

Sophie lit up, practically glowing at the title. "Oh, I'm not Mrs. Morgan," she said, feigning modesty with a smug glance at Emma. "That title belongs to her."

The assistant stammered an apology and backed away.

Emma forced a smile, her tone cool and even. "That's right. I'm still the legal Mrs. Morgan. For now."

She let the words hang between them.

Sophie's smile faltered.

Emma took a step closer, voice low. "As long as I wear that name, you'll always be in the shadows. No matter how many times you sneak in through the back door."

Sophie flushed, clearly rattled, and turned to Caleb. "Let's just go. I'm tired."

Caleb didn't hesitate. "Okay," he murmured, his hand sliding gently around her shoulder.

He turned back to Emma, his expression colder than ever. "You should focus on the baby. Don't start anything stupid, Emma. You won't like the consequences."

And just like that, they walked away, hand in hand, smiling like they hadn't just driven a knife through her chest.

Emma stood still, her hands numb, her throat tight. The store around her blurred. Her tears didn't even wait for the privacy of home, they slid quietly down her cheeks before she could stop them.

Her voice cracked under her breath.

"Are you really that blind, Caleb? You can't see the truth even when it's inches from your face?"

---

She went home in a haze.

After that day, Emma stopped leaving the villa. Not because Caleb told her to but because her heart no longer had the strength to look for hope outside.

She walked less. Talked less. The silence became her companion.

She wasn't afraid of Caleb anymore. She simply didn't have the energy to pretend.

This baby-her baby, was the only reason she still fought to wake up every morning.

The doctor warned her she had come dangerously close to losing the pregnancy. One more incident like that and it might be irreversible.

Caleb rarely came home. When he did, he barely stayed. Sophie's son-his baby was always sick, or so he said.

Emma no longer asked where he was going.

She barely looked at him.

---

One night, Caleb returned briefly to change clothes.

Emma was curled up in the living room, a blanket around her shoulders. She watched him move around the house like a stranger.

And then, without looking up, she asked quietly:

"Is that why you want this baby? For your son? You want a backup?"

Caleb paused, his hand on the collar of his shirt. He didn't answer immediately.

Emma turned her head, her gaze steady now. "Is that what this is about? You don't want me. You don't even want this baby. You just want an insurance policy for the one you do love."

He met her eyes at last.

But he still said nothing.

And sometimes, silence is the cruelest answer of all.