Chapter 10 Chapter 10: Grin and Bear
Catherine’s P.O.V
It was around two in the morning when the guests finally started to leave, one after the other, their heels clicking slower, their voices lower, and I felt my body protesting with every step I took. I smiled anyway. I always smiled.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, again and again, my lips aching from holding the expression for so long. Xavier stayed beside me the entire time, his presence steady, grounding, and every now and then he leaned closer and whispered. “You holding up?” and I answered automatically, “I’m fine,” even though my vision swam and my head felt unbearably heavy.
I genuinely felt like I might collapse where I stood. I leaned into Xavier as another couple approached us, pasting on a smile that felt frozen onto my face.
“Thank you so much for coming.”
“Oh, of course, Catherine.” The woman’s eyes flicked briefly to my stomach before darting away. “It must be… a lot. But this is such a modern solution.”
“It is,” I replied easily. “It’s what’s best for our family.”
Xavier’s hand tightened around mine. “We’re grateful for everyone’s support.”
The man beside her nodded slowly. “As long as everyone is comfortable with the arrangement.” His gaze slid past me, landing squarely on Caroline with a frown.
“Caroline is wonderful,” I cut in smoothly, not letting anyone find out how much this affected me. “She’s part of this with us.”
She stepped closer then, offering a gentle smile. “Cathy has been incredible. She’s made everything so easy.”
I laughed softly. “It’s the least I can do. We’re all on the same side.”
“You’re very brave,” the woman murmured.
Brave. I nodded, because correcting her would take too much energy.
Another group stepped forward almost immediately, barely giving me time to breathe.
“Such a lovely news.” A handshake for Xavier first, then me. “Congratulations… I suppose.”
“Thank you. It’s been a journey.”
The woman beside him frowned openly. “I could never do that. Letting another woman carry my child.”
“It’s not like that,” I said quickly, my smile tightening. “This is a gift. A choice. And one we all made together.”
“Exactly,” Xavier added. “Catherine has handled everything with so much grace.”
Grace. I felt it landed like a consolation prize.
“If you say so,” the woman muttered, already turning away. The look she gave me…half pity, half judgment…lodged itself somewhere deep in my chest and stayed there.
I turned to Caroline before the silence could stretch too far. “Are you okay?”
She hesitated. “Are you?”
“I’m fine. Tonight is about making everyone feel comfortable.”
Xavier frowned. “Cathy, you don’t have to keep…”
“I do. Someone has to.”
Near the door, a woman clasped my hands between hers as she prepared to leave.
“You’re such a strong woman. God gives the hardest battles to His toughest soldiers.”
My vision blurred, but my voice didn’t. “Thank you. We’re very hopeful.”
She nodded, her eyes flicking to my body with something like pity, and then she was gone.
Then came the looks…the lingering ones, the ones that scanned my body as if searching for the flaw and a hushed voice that didn’t bother lowering enough said, “How sad,” or “How unfortunate”. I pretended not to hear it. Xavier squeezed my fingers and murmured, “Ignore them,” and I whispered back, “I’m trying.”
Another woman asked far too bluntly, “So you can’t have children at all?”
My chest tightened, but I kept my tone calm. “This is the best option for us,” I said. Xavier immediately added. “That’s all anyone needs to know.”
The house finally grew quiet, the kind of quiet that rang louder than the music ever had. I leaned back against the wall, my legs trembling.
“I think I might actually pass out.”
“That’s it. You’re done for the night.”
“I still need to check on Caroline.”
A sigh. “Of course you do.”
I crossed the room, every step burning. “Thank you for tonight. You did great.”
“You didn’t have to defend me every time.”
“They weren’t judging you.” I kept my smile soft. “They were judging me.”
“Cathy…”
“It’s fine. This is what’s best for the family.”
She nodded, unsure.
I kept the smile on my face like it was stitched there, tight and aching, nodding along as Lydia’s voice floated through the air again, sharp and sugary at the same time.
“Catherine, dear, you should really sit more,” she said, her eyes flicking pointedly to my stomach, then to Caroline standing nearby. “Stress isn’t good for… well, your situation.”
I laughed softly, because that was what I’d trained myself to do. “I’m fine, Lydia,” I replied, my voice steady even though my chest felt like it was caving in.
Xavier squeezed my hand. “She’s fine, Mom,” he said, a little too quickly.
Lydia hummed. “Of course she is. Strong girl. Not every woman can handle knowing another woman is doing what she couldn’t.”
The words hit hard, but I swallowed them, smiled wider. “Excuse me,” I said politely, because saying anything else would mean she’d won, and I refused to give her that satisfaction.
Someone else chimed in…an aunt, maybe. “Catherine has been so gracious through all this.”
Lydia laughed. “Gracious, yes. Poor thing doesn’t really have a choice, does she?”
I met Xavier’s eyes, silently begging him to say something, anything. He shifted uncomfortably instead.
“Let’s not make this awkward,” he said, and somehow that hurt more than Lydia’s words.
When the final cluster of the guests started drifting away, Lydia’s voice followed me like a shadow.
“Make sure you say goodbye properly,” she murmured as people hugged me with pity-soft touches. “After all, this is all you’ll ever really contribute to.”
This time, I felt my knees tremble, and not just from exhaustion. I couldn’t do it anymore. I turned to Xavier, my smile finally slipping just a fraction.
“I’m tired,” I said quietly. “I think I’ll wait in the car.”
He frowned. “Right now?”
“Yes,” I replied, forcing calm into my tone. “I just… need some air.”
He hesitated. “Okay. I’ll just take a minute, say goodbye to everyone, and I’ll come.”
Lydia leaned in immediately. “Running off already?” she asked sweetly. “Don’t worry, dear. We’ll keep Xavier company.”
I didn’t respond. I only nodded at Xavier. “Take your time,” I said, even though every second felt unbearable.
The moment I turned away, I walked faster, heels clicking too loudly, my breath coming uneven.
By the time I reached the car, I was shaking, not just from the cold. I yanked the door open, climbed in, and the second it shut, everything I’d been holding back shattered.
“God,” I whispered, pressing my hand to my mouth as the tears spilled over. “God, please.”
My chest heaved as I sobbed, words tumbling out between breaths. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t keep smiling. I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”
I wiped my face angrily, but it didn’t stop. “Infertile wife,” I choked out bitterly. “That’s all I am to her. That’s all I’ll ever be.”
I leaned my forehead against the dashboard, crying harder now, no one to see, no one to impress, no Lydia watching for weakness.
“Xavier,” I whispered, half a plea, half an accusation. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
The tears kept coming, unstoppable, and for the first time all night, I let them.
Their whispers were burned into my mind. Every single one of them. Did you hear? That’s her. Poor woman. And no matter how hard I tried to drown them out, one word kept floating above the rest, sharp and merciless.
Barren.
“Stop,” I whispered under my breath, my fingers tightening in my lap. “Just stop.”
My stomach twisted violently. I swallowed hard, pressed my lips together, and tried to breathe through it.
“You’re fine, Cathy,” I muttered. “You’re absolutely fine. You’re still young...there’s still a chance...” The lie tasted bitter. My eyes burned and before I could stop it, tears spilled over again.
“No,” I hissed, quickly wiping them away. “Not now. Don’t you dare cry now.”
I could still hear their laughter in my head. The stares and the whispers from the guests are burned into my mind. Every time I close my eyes, it feels like they’re all still there, leaning in close, lips brushing ears, voices low but sharp, laughing softly like it’s a private joke and I’m the punchline.
Barren.
It’s like it’s carved into my skull, like it’s who I am now and nothing else.
“Don’t… don’t do this now, Cathy. Please don’t.” My voice shakes, tears blurring everything, and I swipe at my cheeks angrily. “Stop it. Stop crying. He can’t see this. Xavier can’t see this.”
Because I know if he does, he’ll ask questions I don’t have the strength to answer.
“Pull yourself together,” I told my reflection in the glass. “Smile. That’s all you’re good at now anyway.”
I stared at my reflection, my own face staring back at me. Pale. Tense. Breakable.
“You look ridiculous,” I muttered. “Looking so pitiful like this.”
I wiped at my eyes again, furiously trying to wipe the vulnerability from my face, but it just wouldn’t go away. I tried again, but it still didn’t work. All it did was make my face looked like an overripe tomato.
I press my forehead against the cool glass and whisper, “I’m not broken. I’m not. I’m not.” I say it again and again, like saying it enough times might make it true. My fingers tremble as I wipe my tears hastily, forcing my voice steady.
“You’re fine, Cathy. You’re fine. Smile. Just smile.”
Then…knock.
I flinch so hard my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. A small gasp tears from me. “God—” I turn, startled, as another knock follows, gentler this time.
My breath hitched.
Someone was outside the car, and they’d seen me having a mental breakdown.