Chapter 247

Chapter 247
Emily's POV

I woke up to birds chirping outside the window. The October afternoon sun filtered through the gauze curtains, warm against my face. I stretched carefully, my hand moving to my stomach like it always did now.

Six weeks. Maybe eight. The baby was real.

I pushed myself up, testing my energy levels. Pretty good, actually. Martha's herbal soups were working—I hadn't felt this steady in months. My body still demanded random naps, but at least I wasn't dragging myself through every hour anymore.

The back garden called to me. I grabbed a cardigan and headed downstairs, drawn by the autumn light. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of turned soil and dry leaves. Jonathan had been maintaining most of the flower beds, but the daisy patch was mine.

I knelt by the small flowers, picking up my trowel. The shoots were still young, barely showing their first real leaves. I loosened the soil around them, careful not to damage the delicate roots.

By spring, these would bloom. By spring, the baby would be here.

I sat back on my heels, the image filling my head. Stefan and me, standing right here with our child. Teaching tiny hands to touch petals. Watching our baby discover dirt and flowers and sunlight.

God, I wanted that. Wanted it so badly my chest hurt.

The daisy shoots swayed in the breeze. Fragile but stubborn. Like me, I thought. Like this pregnancy that shouldn't exist but does anyway.

My back started protesting after twenty minutes. I washed my hands inside and climbed upstairs to the master bedroom, to the corner I'd turned into a workspace.

Design sketches covered my desk. Rough ideas for various pieces, but none felt right. I wanted to create something special for our wedding—rings that would capture everything Stefan and I had survived.

I picked up my pencil, staring at the blank paper. What could represent us? What symbols could hold poison and healing, lies and truth, almost dying and choosing to live?

The pencil moved in uncertain strokes. A simple band. Too boring. Intertwined patterns. Too cliché. I needed something that felt like us, that told our story without words.

Nothing came.

"Forget it," I muttered, dropping the pencil. Maybe I was trying too hard. Maybe the meaning would show up later.

My gaze landed on the Lego set Stefan had bought me weeks ago, still boxed on the side table. I smiled despite my frustration. He'd remembered some random comment I'd made about loving building things as a kid.

Fine. Lego it was. Sometimes the best way to unstick your brain was doing something completely different.

I'd just torn open the box when my phone buzzed.

Stefan: "Babe, are you awake?"

My lips curved automatically. That nickname still made my heart do stupid things. I typed back fast.

Me: "Yeah, I only slept for half an hour today."

His response came immediately.

Stefan: "Who woke you up?"

I could practically hear the protective edge in those words. Like he'd personally hunt down whatever disturbed my rest. My throat tightened a little.

Me: "Nobody woke me. Just couldn't sleep anymore. When are you coming home?"

A pause, then—

Stefan: "Miss me?"

Heat crept up my neck. Of course I missed him. He'd been gone since dawn, dealing with business meetings and those foreign investors from Washington. But I wasn't going to admit it that directly.

Me: "I want you to read to the baby."

True enough. Stefan read aloud to my stomach every night—fairy tales, children's books, even random news articles in that low voice. Never missed a night, no matter how late he came home or how exhausted he was.

A kissing emoji popped up on my screen, with text below: "Love you."

I stared at the image. It was one of those custom emoji things, and he'd used... my pregnancy photo? When the hell had he even taken that? I looked closer, recognizing my soft sweater and the way my hand rested on my stomach.

That sneaky man.

But my annoyance melted into warmth. He said "I love you" all the time now. Every morning when I woke up—kiss on my forehead, whisper against my hair. Every night before sleep—pulling me close, murmuring it like a prayer. Every time he left for work—cupping my face, saying it with those intense eyes.

And now in text messages too.

I bit my lip, typing back: "Remember to rest. Don't work too hard."

I always let him have the last word in our messages. He was busy, important. Didn't want to distract him with constant back-and-forth.

I put the phone down and went back to the Lego pieces, but before I could start sorting them, another notification lit up the screen.

Lydia.

I clicked it open. A photo filled the screen—Lydia, James, and baby Lily standing in a field of lavender with snow-capped mountains behind them. They looked... happy. Really happy.

Lydia: "Emily, when you have the baby, let's go on vacation together!"

My chest squeezed. Lydia looked so content in that photo. Glowing. That's what Stefan and I would be like someday, right? A family. Happy.

I started typing a response, but another notification popped up. Unknown number. Text message.

I frowned. Who'd text from an unknown number?

I tapped it open, reading line by line.

"Stefan's heart belongs to someone he met years ago. Not you."

My breath caught.

"Why does he go to the same ski resort in Switzerland every year?"

I kept reading, pulse picking up.

"Because he met her there once. But she disappeared."

My fingers tightened on the phone.

"When you meet someone that stunning when you're young, everyone after becomes ordinary."

The next line made my stomach drop.

"You're just his second choice. The one he settled for because he couldn't have her."

No.

Stefan's face flashed in my mind. The way he'd looked at me just days ago when he confessed about the fake report. The tremor in his voice when he asked if I'd still love him after the baby came. His hand on my face in the hallway, terrified I'd leave.

"You're always first," I'd told him. "Always."

He wouldn't. He couldn't.

"I've found her. I'll tell Stefan her location before 8 PM tonight."

The phone screen blurred. My heart was pounding too hard, too fast.

"If you don't believe me, let's wait and see."

I stared at the last sentence, the light from the screen reflecting on my face. The words kept repeating in my head, fighting against everything Stefan had shown me, everything he'd promised.

He'd been so scared I'd stop loving him. So raw and honest about his fears.

But what if that fear came from guilt? What if he knew, deep down, that his heart belonged somewhere else?

No. Stop it.

I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to slow my breathing. This was exactly what someone would send if they wanted to mess with my head. Someone who knew about my past, my insecurities, the way I'd always felt like I wasn't enough.

Stefan chose me. He keeps choosing me.

But the cold feeling in my stomach wouldn't go away. And my brain kept circling back to one question:

Who was this person? And why now?