Raising Her Son, Sharing My Husband
Daisy Swift · Ongoing · 6.6k Words
Introduction
I initially believed this to be yet another instance of his favoritism, until I overheard a devastating conversation and realized the truth: the precious son I had nurtured for seven years was not mine, but a product of his union with his childhood friend.
The marriage I had fought so hard to preserve was, from the very beginning, a deceitful scheme orchestrated against me.
Chapter 1
Today turned out to be Lucas’s seventh birthday. Since morning, he’d been waiting for his dad to come home and cut the cake.
I coaxed him to open his Legos first, promising his dad would be back later.
Instead, he shoved the Lego box hard onto the floor, his eyes red as he shouted:
"I don't want it! Daddy said he would definitely be here today!"
The hard corner of a brick smashed against my ankle, stinging sharp. I bent down to pick up the pieces, trying to explain:
"Daddy's friend is going through a breakup. You know your dad, he’s loyal. He had to go keep his uncle company."
I didn’t expect the child to rub his eyes and scream:
"He's a liar! He definitely went to be with Aunt Lena."
"He never breaks a promise to Aunt Lena."
My hand froze in mid-air.
...
I stayed frozen for a long time.
It wasn't until I had soothed an exhausted Lucas to sleep that I finally walked out to the living room.
The house was pitch black, save for the ticking of the wall clock.
Cole still wasn't home.
I thought about it for a moment, then dialed his number anyway.
The ringtone played for a long time before finally being picked up. The background noise was chaotic, and the man’s voice was laced with impatience and booze:
"Busy. consoling my bro. I’ll be back later."
Before I could say a word, he hung up.
But in that split second, I clearly heard it—a woman’s flirtatious giggle, and the roar of a crowd chanting, "One more shot!"
Like I was possessed, I lit up my phone and refreshed Instagram.
The very first post was from Lena, posted just minutes ago.
Location tagged: The Sky Bar, downtown.
The lighting in the photo was dim. Lena was wearing a sparkling birthday tiara, hands clasped in prayer over a cake, making a wish.
And there was Cole, sitting right next to her, staring at her with focused intensity, a smile playing on his lips.
The caption read: "Best brother ever. Always shows up when I need him most ❤️"
I stared at that red heart for a long time.
So, the "friend going through a breakup" was actually him celebrating the birthday of this "little sister" who shared absolutely no blood relation to him.
When Cole left the house today, he hadn't even said "Happy Birthday" to Lucas.
I grabbed the uncut cake from the table and called a cab to the bar.
When I pushed open the door to the private booth, the group was in full swing. They didn't notice me at all.
Cole was standing at the table, cutting a massive, pink three-tiered cake. His hand covered Lena’s on the knife handle. They were standing so close there was no space between them.
Someone started chanting: "Kiss her! Kiss her!"
Lena's face was flushed pink. She shrank back into Cole's embrace, acting shy: "Oh, stop it... Vivian will get mad if she finds out..."
Cole wore a doting smile I had never once seen him wear at home. He reached out a finger and gently scraped the tip of her nose.
"Quit teasing," his voice was so gentle it could drip water. "She’s thin-skinned."
The gesture stung my eyes.
Last week, when Lucas had a high fever, I sat in the ER alone all night. When I called Cole, he said he was in an emergency meeting.
I found out later that Lena had been in a bad mood, so he’d spent the night sitting by the river with her, letting her vent in the wind.
When I confronted him back then, he had only shot me a cold glance, his voice thick with annoyance:
"Vivian, she's my sister. Can't you be a little more generous? Stop being so petty."
The crowd around them started hooting wildly: "Kiss! Kiss! You guys are practically brothers, what are you afraid of?"
Lena swayed a little, leaning heavily against Cole’s shoulder, her face flushed as she looked up at him.
Cole said "Stop it," but his body didn't pull away. Amid the roar of the room, he smiled, lowered his head, and dropped a kiss on Lena’s forehead.
My grip loosened.
The cake box smashed heavily onto the floor.
Everyone turned in shock, staring at me standing in the doorway, and the mess splattered on the ground.
Cole frowned as he looked over. The adoration in his eyes instantly froze, replaced by the displeasure of being interrupted.
"What are you doing here?"
His first sentence wasn't an explanation. It was an interrogation.
His friends realized what was happening and quickly tried to smooth things over: "Whoa, Vivian, don't misunderstand! They're just tight, like family. We were just playing a game."
Lena stood up too, acting like a frightened deer. "Vivian, I'm sorry... it's all my fault. It's my birthday, Cole just wanted to celebrate with me. Please don't blame him..."
I just watched them coldly.
Seeing my silence, Lena blurted out:
"Cole and I really are just friends... We're too close! I even know what the birthmark on his ass looks like. If we were going to get together, we would have done it ages ago..."
I forced a dry, jagged smile.
"So, 'good friends' nowadays," I said softly, looking straight at Cole, "don't just share pants, they inspect birthmarks on each other's asses?"
Cole’s face darkened. He abruptly stood up and pulled Lena behind him, shielding her.
"Vivian, don't listen to her nonsense, she's drunk."
As he spoke, as if to cover the awkwardness, he pulled a velvet box from his pocket and thrust it toward me.
"Fine, that’s enough. Here. It’s a gift for you. That scarf you always wanted."
I pressed my lips together. I didn't take it.
Instead, I gave him a very helpful reminder: "Cole, today is Lucas's birthday."
Cole froze. His gaze darkened, and he tossed the box onto the floor with a thud.
"So I forgot. Big deal. Is that worth chasing me all the way here to make a scene?"
He turned to grab Lena, ready to leave, clearly done dealing with his "crazy wife."
Behind them, I spoke up, my voice calmer than it had ever been before.
"Cole, let's get a divorce."
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