Sometimes he came back with little updates.
Ethan had always been organized, but this was something else. He kept receipts, doctor’s notes, and printed photos. Everything was filed and labeled.
“Why are you saving all of that?” I asked one evening.
He shrugged. “Just being organized.”
I nodded, but something about it seemed excessive.
Everything was filed and labeled.
One night, I finally said what I’d been thinking for weeks.
“Ethan. Don’t you think you’re visiting Claire a little too much?”
He blinked. “What are you implying?”
“I’m not implying anything. It just feels… strange.”
He laughed. “Sweetheart, she’s carrying our baby. I just want her to have a smooth pregnancy.”
I nodded. I smiled. I let it go. But I didn’t stop feeling uneasy about how much private time my husband was spending with our surrogate.
“I’m not implying anything. It just feels… strange.”
***
The next day, I decided to do something crazy.
I slipped a small voice recorder into the inside pocket of Ethan’s jacket right before he left to see Claire.
My hands were shaking.
I stood in the hallway holding his jacket and thought, Why am I even doing this?
I almost took it back out, but the feeling in my gut was louder than the guilt, so I left it.
That evening, Ethan came home from Claire’s and hung up his jacket like usual. He kissed me goodnight and went to bed.
I decided to do something crazy.
I waited until the house was quiet. Then I took the recorder from his jacket pocket, walked to the bathroom, locked the door, and sat down on the cold tile floor.
I pressed play.
First, I heard the sound of a door opening, then Claire’s voice, warm and familiar.
“Oh, good, you made it.”
Then Ethan. “I brought the vitamins you wanted.”
I pressed play.
I let out a breath.
Maybe I’d been paranoid. Maybe that was all it was. Maybe I was losing my mind.
Then Claire said something that made my whole body tense.
“Are you sure your wife is okay with all this?”
