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Nominal wife
Five years ago, I got pregnant with David
Bailey’s baby. That’s how I married into the
Bailey family, becoming his wife in name only.
For five years, David was utterly indifferent to
me and our son, Liam. Three days ago, Liam
and I were in a car accident. He didn’t survive.
And David? He was off to the Swiss Alps with
his childhood sweetheart, Sarah, fulfilling some
teenage pact. It was Liam’s third day in the
viewing room, and David hadn’t even shown up.
- 1.
People came and went, their faces plastered with fake grief. I was the only one who knew the truth. I poured myself a glass of water in the dining room. Just as I was about to drink, I heard whispers and giggles from behind me.
“Can you believe it? The kid’s been dead for days, and his father hasn’t even bothered to
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“Didn’t you hear?”
“Hear what…?”
The voice dropped to a conspiratorial hush. “David’s in the Swiss Alps, with Sarah. No cell service up there. Apparently, the Baileys have been blowing up his phone, but he hasn’t
answered a single call.”
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“Probably on purpose,” the other woman
snickered. “Everyone knows she trapped him
with the pregnancy. If it weren’t for her, he’d be
with Sarah already.”
The whispers swirled around me, a cacophony
of judgment and malice. Overwhelmed by grief,
I fainted.
I woke up to more muffled voices, a splitting
headache pounding in my skull. I buried my face
in the pillow, desperate for an escape. A damp,
—
salty smell filled my nostrils the tears I’d
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cried for days, soaking into the fabric. And
David still wasn’t back.
The noise subsided as heavy footsteps
approached. Someone in the crowd said,
“David, you’re finally here.”
David… David Bailey? It couldn’t be. He was in
Switzerland, with Sarah. Why would he come
back? Even if he wanted to, would Sarah let
him?
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She’d deliberately chosen Liam’s birthday for
their trip. That night, Liam sat dejectedly, the
candles on his cake melting down. The
flickering light illuminated his little face,
highlighting his disappointment. He loved
sweets, but he didn’t touch a single bite. His
small voice asked, over and over, “Mommy,
when is Daddy coming home?” He never cried,
never made a fuss. He’d always been so
understanding, knowing his father didn’t love
him, or me.
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For five years, Liam’s only wish was for his
father to spend his birthday with him. And now
he was gone, his wish unfulfilled.
The chair beside my bed scraped against the
floor. Someone sat down. The familiar scent
enveloped me. I’d spent five years sleeping next
to him; I recognized his every breath, every
movement, every nuance. Once, I craved his
closeness. Now, after all the heartbreak, I
couldn’t bear to look at him.
David cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he
murmured.
Sorry. Again.
When he’d left for Switzerland with Sarah, I’d
blocked his path, clutching his sleeve. “Can’t it
wait until tomorrow? It’s Liam’s fifth birthday.
He wants you to be here.” In all our years of
marriage, I knew my place. I had no right to demand anything from him. This marriage
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wasn’t what he wanted. But for Liam, I’d always
Try.
As expected, he’d pulled away, his face
impassive. “I’m sorry, Sarah’s waiting.”
But his son was waiting too. Only this time, Liam was truly gone. He wouldn’t be waiting
anymore.
A chill settled over me. I curled up tighter,
burying my head deeper. David sat there,
knowing I was awake. He was always
perceptive, acutely aware of my every move. He was afraid I’d try to manipulate him again,
afraid I’d hurt his precious Sarah.
“You’re awake?” His voice was devoid of
emotion, laced with impatience. “Everyone’s
gone. Come downstairs and eat something.”
How could he be so calm? As if the child who
died wasn’t his.
<
And he was right. He’d never treated Liam like
his son, or me like his wife. If it hadn’t been for
my mother’s scheming, I wouldn’t have ended
up in his bed, wouldn’t have become Mrs.
Bailey. David resented me, and he resented my
mother. He once called us vipers.
The thought of Liam brought fresh tears to my eyes. My voice was hoarse, thick with unshed
tears. “Did… did you see Liam?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” I fought back a sob. “You can go now.”
His voice was as light as air, casually
dismissive. “I didn’t get the calls. Lost service in
the mountains… Really.”
Really? Was that supposed to be an
explanation? An excuse? It didn’t matter
anymore.
“Just an ”
He didn’t move. His tone sharpened with
disapproval. “Chloe, he was only five. How
could you let him go out on his own? I’m his
father. I deserve an explanation.”
An explanation? A bitter laugh escaped my lips.
I sat up, my body stiff and aching. I must have
looked hideous: tear–streaked face, skin
creased from the pillow, eyes hollow,
complexion pale. Like a ghost.
David, on the other hand, was perfectly
composed, impeccably dressed, his face a
mask of icy indifference. No tears. No grief. He
looked like a detective interrogating a suspect.
And I, the grieving mother, was the criminal.
“What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“You,” I said, leaning back against the
headboard, feeling brittle, like I could shatter at
any moment. “Do you know where Liam was
going?”
<
David stared at me, waiting.
“He was going to find you.”
“He called you so many times. But you never
answered.”
“He said maybe Daddy was lost and couldn’t
find his way home. He wanted to go look for
you.”
David hesitated. “You didn’t stop him?”
“I could have fooled him once, twice… but he
was worried about you. He waited until I…” I
trailed off, a wave of self–pity washing over me.
Why was I explaining myself to him?
I took a deep breath. “It’s my fault.”
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken
accusations. David’s gaze intensified,
scrutinizing me.
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I met his eyes, my voice steady. “It’s my fault for being foolish enough to fall in love with you. For getting pregnant and trapping you in this marriage. For having Liam, for subjecting him to this life, for failing to protect him.”
Under his oppressive stare, I managed a weak smile. “And it’s my fault for ever believing things could be different between us.”
David’s face went blank. He was speechless.
Then, a hand lashed out, striking my cheek before either of us could react. A woman burst into the room, her voice shrill with anger and grief. “You couldn’t even watch one child! You don’t deserve to be a mother!”
It was David’s sister, Emily. She’d always despised me, and Liam even more. She’d pushed him, given him spoiled food, whispered
in his ear that his father hated him. Her current
display of grief was nothing but a performance
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I sat there numbly, enduring slap after slap. My
lip split, the metallic taste of blood filling my
mouth. David, my husband, simply watched, his
eyes cold and distant. He’d never intervened,
not when I needed him, not when Liam needed
him.
Emily’s fingers tangled in my hair, yanking at
the strands. It hurt. Through the haze of pain
and her venomous words, I locked eyes with
David. He used to be so attentive, so concerned
if I even scraped my knee. Now, he watched as
his sister assaulted me, his indifference a
chilling reminder of how far we’d fallen.
Years ago, I’d been head–over–heels for him,
consumed by a naive infatuation that only
deepened with his hot–and–cold treatment.
Then, through a series of manipulations and
unfortunate events, I’d become his wife. I’d
loved him, hoped for a future with him, and felt
guilty for the role I’d played in separating him.
from Sarah.
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Now, it was all gone.
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I lunged forward, grabbing Emily’s arm, and slapped her back. She recoiled, stunned, her eyes wide with disbelief. I hadn’t wronged
anyone in this family, except maybe David. And Liam certainly hadn’t. This slap… I owed it to her.
- 2.
The day of Liam’s funeral, I arrived at Green Valley Cemetery with a bruised and swollen cheek, scratches marking my chin. If David hadn’t pulled Emily off me, the damage would have been worse. But it was me he’d pushed away.
Sitting in the car, the cold seeped into my bones, but I felt nothing. I stared blankly out the window. David sat beside me, taking a call from
Sarah. On the day of his son’s funeral, he was talking to another woman. His voice, usually so
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aloof, softened with a tenderness he only
reserved for Sarah.
“Yes, a few more days.”
“… You go back first.”
“Her?”
