My life as a mother had only just begun when I found myself confronting an audacious demand from the one person I never wanted to see again: Jessica. My sister. The woman who had taken my husband, Michael, with a web of lies. Her deceit about a phantom pregnancy shattered our marriage, and though I had painstakingly rebuilt my life, her presence was a storm cloud that refused to dissipate.
John, my husband, saw the message pop up on my phone, and ignoring it was no longer an option. He is a warm, kind man who despises dishonesty, and I saw a flicker of a plan in his eyes. He has a knack for turning any situation to his advantage, and I trusted him. So, with a deep breath, I agreed to attend Jessica’s celebration. She might find it amusing for now, but the curtain was about to rise on a drama of her own making.
My name is Naomi Johnson. Not so long ago, I was Naomi Smith. My professional life has been steady, an office assistant since I graduated from college. It was in college, through our shared club activities, that I met Michael Smith. He was a brilliant medical student, destined to follow in his father’s footsteps as a renowned allergy specialist. At first, I was intimidated by his family’s wealth and his intellect, but I soon discovered a unique soul who, like me, was captivated by the work of a certain obscure film director.
Wanting to deepen our connection, I took the initiative. “The director’s new film is out,” I said one day, my heart thumping. “Would you want to see it with me?”
He looked at me, genuinely surprised. “A woman interested in films like that?” His surprise melted into a smile, and the conversation that followed was the spark that ignited our relationship. After the movie, he confessed his delight, and I knew my efforts had paid off. He saw me as someone special.
Our love story continued beyond graduation, and at twenty-five, Michael proposed. He was still a resident, with dreams of taking over his father’s clinic. “I want you to be there to see it all, Naomi,” he said, his eyes earnest. “Will you marry me?”
Overjoyed, I accepted. I was on cloud nine, a feeling that intensified when I became pregnant shortly after our wedding. Michael was ecstatic. We didn’t care if it was a boy or a girl; a healthy child was all that mattered.
But my joy was swiftly consumed by a relentless storm of morning sickness. The constant, debilitating nausea forced me to resign from my job. At home, I was a prisoner to the illness, needing to eat constantly to keep the sickness at bay. My days were a chaotic blur of snack wrappers and pastry crumbs.
One evening, Michael came home to the disarray. “Naomi, what’s happened to this place?” he asked, his nose wrinkled in distaste. “It’s a mess.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, shamefaced. “I’ve been too sick to clean. It’s hard to function when you feel like this.”
He looked me up and down, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “You’re not working, and you’ve put on so much weight. You’ve really let yourself go, just eating all day. It’s… unbecoming.”
His words were a physical blow. I couldn’t fathom how the kind man I loved could be so callous. I clung to the faint hope that once the baby arrived, the real Michael would return. It was a hope that would soon be brutally extinguished.
My sister, Jessica, paid a visit one afternoon, finding me in my usual state of disarray. “Sorry for the mess,” I said, hoping for a bit of sisterly comfort.
“That’s fine,” she replied breezily, her eyes scanning the room. “I’m used to this place. It’s like a second home.”
Despite feeling awful, I tried to steer the conversation toward something happy. “I think it’s a girl,” I shared, a small smile touching my lips. “I keep thinking about dressing her up, going shopping together someday.”
Jessica’s response was odd. “Wow, I didn’t know you were thinking about things like that. Does Michael know it’s going to be a girl?” When I confirmed he did, she turned with a meaningful, almost triumphant smile. “That’s right. Michael is still a rookie, but he’ll take over the family clinic. It’s a shame, really… having you as the clinic director’s wife.”
Her comment, laced with its usual sarcastic venom, stung. Before I could respond, she leaned in conspiratorially. “So, Naomi, anything bothering you lately?”
I hesitated. “Well… Michael’s been coming home late. He’s a doctor, so it’s unavoidable, but he’s at the hospital even on weekends. We hardly have time to talk.”
“I see,” Jessica remarked, an icy smile playing on her lips. “Well, it’s no surprise, is it?”
Just as a chill went down my spine, the living room door opened. It was Michael.
“Michael? You’re home early.”
He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He walked past me, his face a mask of grim resolve. Then, Jessica spoke, her voice cutting through the tension. “See, your beloved husband is here. You should listen to what he has to say.”
Michael finally looked at me, his expression awkward. “Naomi… let’s get a divorce.”
The words didn’t register. A joke? It had to be. We had a history, a life, a child on the way.
“I can’t see you as a woman anymore,” he said, his voice flat. “All you do is eat and gain weight.”
“But this is the morning sickness!” I cried. “I feel ill if I don’t eat!”
Jessica stepped forward, placing a proprietary hand on her still-flat stomach. “That’s the difference between us, Naomi. The baby in your belly is just a girl. It won’t be an heir to the Smith clinic. But in my belly,” she announced, looking triumphantly from me to Michael, “I carry Michael’s son. The suitable heir. I’m three months pregnant.”
The world tilted on its axis. I watched, stunned, as she lovingly stroked her belly. “You can’t be serious,” I whispered. “Michael, what have you done?”
“Your excuses are unacceptable,” he said, finally finding his voice, though he still wouldn’t look at me directly. “I’m tired of watching you lie around. Jessica takes care of herself. She doesn’t have morning sickness because she has self-control.”
“I won’t lose myself and eat like some farm animal,” Jessica declared with a smug grin, while Michael stared at the floor, guilt-ridden.
“Wanting an heir and a beautiful wife is your own selfish desire!” I shot back, tears streaming down my face.
Michael just mumbled an apology and mentioned alimony, a clean break. I knew then that it was over. Our life together had been a mirage.
Michael and I divorced. I gave birth to our daughter as a single mother. The promised alimony never materialized. Post-delivery, I had to work to survive, taking a job at a nearby department store. Life took an unpredictable turn, but my hard work caught the eye of John Johnson, a well-regarded manager in the external sales department.
Through casual conversations during his visits, we were drawn to each other. He was kind, sincere, and saw me for who I was.
“Naomi,” he said one evening, taking my hand. “I might be twenty years older than you, but I sincerely want to make you and your daughter happy. Will you marry me?”
Overwhelmed, I accepted. Life after remarriage was a blissful peace I thought I’d lost forever. But I failed to notice the ominous footsteps creeping back toward our tranquil days.
One afternoon, an email arrived. It was from Jessica.
A baby is born. I’m expecting a $5,000 baby shower gift.
A sigh escaped me. Five years ago, she had an affair with Michael and lured him away. Now this. The audacity was breathtaking. I could never forget the look on their faces that day, so pleased with themselves as my world crumbled.
When John came home, he immediately noticed my distress. “What’s wrong, Naomi? You look pale.”
I showed him the email. “It’s my sister. The one who married Michael. She’s asking for a $5,000 gift.”
As John read the message, he frowned. “Wait. Jessica Smith… I know that name. I’ve never been formally introduced, but I think I know her.” He stared at the email, a memory clicking into place. “We never properly greeted her at our wedding. Let’s visit her. In fact,” he said, already getting ready to leave, “I just remembered something I need to do back at the department store.”
A few hours later, John returned with a thick file. “Is it okay if we visit your sister two weeks from now? On Sunday. And I’d like to bring my parents and cousins, too.”
“My parents and cousins?” I asked, confused.
“I heard your ex-husband Michael is famous for allergy treatment,” he said smoothly. “My family has a history of allergies. I thought we might get some good advice.”
I remembered hearing that Michael had indeed taken over his father’s clinic. “Okay,” I said, “I’ll contact Jessica.”
She replied almost instantly. Of course! The more guests, the more gifts! Looking forward to it!
Two weeks later, we arrived at Jessica’s stylish house, which stood gleaming next to the clinic. John’s parents and relatives were impressed.
“Welcome! I’ve been waiting for you,” Jessica greeted us, radiating smug satisfaction.
“Long time no see, Jessica. You look happy,” John remarked.
“Of course! I was worried about my first child’s birth, but it all worked out,” she replied.
I caught the odd phrasing. “First child? Didn’t you say you were pregnant with a boy before?”
Jessica faltered for a second. “Oh, did I not tell you? I miscarried that time. So this is my first.”
John, standing beside me, gave a slow, meaningful nod. Jessica saw his expression and began to tremble slightly. She turned to greet John’s parents, but her composure was cracking.
“Oh, Jessica,” John interjected smoothly. “There’s something I wanted to give you.” He handed her a pastel-colored envelope, thick with its contents. “Congratulations,” was written on it.
“Just what I’ve been waiting for!” she exclaimed, her greed overriding her nervousness. I glanced at John, whispering, “We can’t afford the $5,000 she asked for!”
“It’s fine,” he said, his eyes glinting. “Trust me. Just watch.”
Jessica tore open the envelope. “I need to check if it’s exactly $5,000. With this thickness, it might even be $10,000!”
But the moment she saw the contents, her face clouded over. “What… what is this?”
John stepped forward, adopting his professional, salesperson smile. “Miss Jessica Smith, this is a detailed statement of your purchases at our department store over the past five years. You told the staff to ‘put it on my tab.’ This is the amount you’ve accumulated to date.”
The statement she held listed a dizzying array of luxury watches and designer bags. The five-digit total at the bottom left me speechless.
“What are you talking about? I don’t know anything about this!” she protested.
“Is that so?” John continued, his voice calm but firm. “Mr. Michael Smith and his parents are valued customers with an external sales card. However, with such a high amount, we needed to confirm. Also, there’s something else I personally wanted to verify.” He paused. “About five years ago, we received several complaints about a customer flaunting their external sales card and making extremely unpleasant remarks to staff. Do you know anything about this?”
“What does that matter?” Jessica retorted.
“The content of the conversation was so shocking that the staff who overheard it remembered it clearly,” John explained, his gaze fixed on her. “They said the conversation was about stealing a woman’s husband… who just so happened to be her brother-in-law. She bragged about using a fake pregnancy to break them up, and laughed about how she lied about a miscarriage as if it were some heroic tale.”
That’s when it all clicked. The “heir” was a lie. There was no pregnancy, which is why there was no morning sickness, no change in her body. It was all a monstrous, calculated scheme.
“That story… it was about me?” Jessica stammered, her face ashen.
“Matching the complaints with the external sales card records, your name came up, Jessica Smith,” John said, delivering the final blow. “You were so desperate to marry into a doctor’s family, you did whatever it took.”
Just as I was reeling from the revelation, the front door opened again. It was Michael. He must have been listening from the other room.
“Explain yourself, Jessica,” he demanded, his voice trembling with rage. “The pregnancy five years ago… it was all a lie? You trapped me!”
Jessica began to laugh, a hysterical, broken sound. “So what? You got a beautiful wife, and we have a child now! It’s fine, right?”
“Don’t joke with me!” he roared. “I can’t live with a liar! We’re getting a divorce!”
“You can’t be serious! What about our child?”
“I can’t live with a reckless spender and a manipulative person like you. It’s not good for the child,” he said, pushing her away. “I’m taking custody.”
The relatives who had come hoping for allergy medicine were frozen, watching the chaotic scene unfold. I was mortified that this woman was my sister.
Afterward, Michael hired a top divorce lawyer, successfully ended the marriage, and won custody. Jessica, who had been living a life of luxury on credit, was suddenly hounded for repayments.
She had the nerve to call me. “If your husband hadn’t brought that statement, I’d still be the clinic director’s wife! Help your sister out!”
“Why should I?” I responded calmly. “You brought this on yourself. You should pay for your own shopping.”
Then, a message from Michael popped up on my social media. Hey. Can we start over? If Jessica hadn’t lied, we would have been fine. I want to see our daughter.
I stared at the message, a bitter laugh escaping me. He had conveniently forgotten how he had mocked me, abandoned me in my time of need, and cheated. After five years of silence, the last thing I wanted was to see his face.
Gossip travels fast. Patients stopped coming to the Smith Clinic. It garnered one-star ratings and scathing online reviews. The clinic he was so obsessed with inheriting was now on the verge of collapse. How ironic, for a man so fixated on having a male heir.
My husband, my daughter, and I continue to live our happy life.
“Naomi, are you ready? Shall we head out?” John asked, smiling at me from the doorway.
“Yes,” I replied, a wave of warmth washing over me. “I was just remembering that spaghetti you brought me from that restaurant, back when I was a single mother.”
John used to order takeout for me, a gentle way of approaching me when my daughter was small and I was struggling. “You had just gotten divorced and were having a hard time,” he said softly. “I thought even a little bit of delicious food could bring you some happiness.”
“It was your kindness that drew me to you,” I said. “The dish that brought us together. Back then, it was just me and my daughter eating from a takeout box. But now… now we get to eat together as a family. Who would have ever thought a day like this would come?”