Chapter 10

I gripped the edge of the sink, my knuckles turning white as another wave of nausea crashed over me. The taste of bile burned my throat. This wasn't normal. Something was wrong.

Derick's voice cut through the haze. "Are you okay?" His worried eyes searched mine as I rinsed my mouth and turned to face him.

"Yeah… I think it's malaria," I lied, forcing a weak smile. "I'll visit the hospital later for a check-up."

His frown deepened. "You don't have to stress yourself. Let me call the family doctor. He can come here."

I shook my head. "No, I'll be fine. I'll go myself."

Derick studied me for a moment before nodding. "Alright, if that's what you want."

The moment he left for a meeting, I wasted no time. I grabbed my purse, slid into one of the cars, and drove straight to the hospital.

Sitting in the doctor's office, my heart pounded so loud I could barely hear him as he read my results.

"Congratulations, ma'am. You're pregnant."

His words hit me like a bullet. My hands turned ice-cold as he extended a handshake. I barely managed to grip his hand, forcing out a fake smile.

"Is everything alright, madam?" he asked, concern evident in his tone.

"Yes. Can I have the result?" My voice sounded distant, like it wasn't mine.

He handed me the paper, but the letters blurred before my eyes. Pregnant? That wasn't possible… was it?

I stumbled out of the office, my legs barely holding me up. My breaths came in short, panicked gasps as I gripped the result tighter. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening.

Because I had no idea who the father was.

My head spun as I climbed into the car, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing grounding me to reality. Derick or Jackson? My husband… or his son?

I had done the calculations in my head a hundred times already, but I couldn't be sure. My mind raced back to the nights with Jackson, to the moments I'd let myself go too far. I had always taken precautions… except for that one time.

Could that one time have changed everything?

By the time I reached home, I was shaking. I rushed inside, locking the door behind me, and threw myself onto the bed. My body curled into itself as if I could squeeze away the truth.

This would destroy everything. My marriage. My life. Me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, praying—begging—for this to be a mistake. Maybe the test was wrong. Maybe this was all a horrible dream, and I'd wake up to find everything normal again.

The sound of the front door opening jolted me awake. I sat up abruptly, the test result still clutched in my hands.

Derick walked in, his expression softening when he saw me. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "Hey, baby. You okay?"

I swallowed hard and quickly shoved the paper under the pillow. "Y-yeah. Just tired."

His eyes flickered to the hidden paper. "Is that the test result?"

"No... yes."

"What does it say?"

I forced a chuckle. "Malaria. Nothing serious."

He sighed in relief. "Okay. Just take your medicine, alright? You'll be fine."

"Yeah…" My voice barely held together as he walked out of the room.

The moment the door closed behind him, I exhaled sharply, my chest tightening with a suffocating weight.

I wasn't fine. I was far from fine.

Because I knew the truth. This wasn't just some illness.

And the secret growing inside me was about to destroy everything.

But then, a thought crept into my mind… a dangerous, desperate thought. Maybe—just maybe—there was a way out of this.

I spent the next few hours in a daze, pacing the room, clutching my stomach as if I could will the truth away. My phone buzzed on the nightstand. I glanced at the screen—Jackson.

I hesitated before answering. "Hello?"

"Hey, are you okay? You sound off."

I closed my eyes. Just the sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of guilt crashing over me. "I'm fine. Just a long day."

"Are you sure? You know you can tell me anything."

I nearly laughed. Could I? Could I tell him the truth? That I might be carrying his child?

Instead, I whispered, "I have to go."

"Wait, I—"

I ended the call before he could say more, tossing the phone onto the bed as I buried my face in my hands.

This secret was a ticking time bomb, and I had no idea how much longer I could keep it from exploding.