Chapter 86 #4: Who Is Maya?
Elaine arrived with flowers and that alone should have told me everything.
They were white lilies, arranged carefully, tasteful and expensive, the kind that stained everything they touched if you were not careful. I opened the door and she smiled warmly, already stepping forward as if we were close enough for that.
“Nora,” she said softly. “You look thin.”
“I’ve always been thin, Elaine.” I replied, stepping aside to let her in.
She clicked her tongue as though concerned, though her eyes swept the house with the efficiency of someone taking inventory. “Not like this. You should be taking better care of yourself.”
“I’ll take it into advisement,” I said. It was the easiest answer.
She set the flowers down on the console table, fussing with their placement. “Grief does terrible things to a woman.”
It was said gently. Kindly. Almost lovingly.
I smiled anyway. “Grief does terrible things to everyone.”
She turned then, finally looking at me fully. “How are you, really?”
There it was. The concern she performed so well. I had watched her do this for years, with wives of board members, with politicians’ spouses, with women she would later destroy socially if it benefited her son’s empire.
“I’m fine,” I said. “David is fine. We’re managing.”
Her lips pursed, just slightly. “Of course you are.”
We sat. She crossed her legs elegantly, smoothing her skirt. “I wanted to check on you. After everything. You’ve been so… distant.”
“I needed space.”
She nodded, like she understood, though her fingers tightened around her handbag. “David worries about you.”
“David worries about everyone,” I said lightly.
“Yes,” she agreed. “He’s always been like that.”
We drank tea. She asked about my health. About whether I was sleeping. Eating. Leaving the house. Each question felt less about me and more like a box she needed to tick.
Then her phone rang.
“Oh,” she said, glancing at the screen. “I need to take this.”
She stepped into the hallway, her voice dropping, though not enough. I stepped closer to hear better.
“I told her I would try,” Elaine said into the phone. “Yes. Yes, I know Maya is perfect. I just hope she understands discretion.”
My stomach tightened.
“She doesn’t suspect anything,” Elaine continued. “Besides, she’s met Maya so she'll just think it’s another business meeting. Just make sure she looks her very best before that day.”
I did not move. I did not breathe.
“Yes. Take care of everything on your end,” she said. “I know how to handle my son.”
The call ended.
Elaine re-entered the living room, her smile snapping back into place when she saw me standing there.
“Everything alright?” she asked smoothly.
“Who is Maya?” I asked.
She blinked. Once. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ease–”
“Who the hell is Maya, Elaine?” I asked again, firmer this time.
Elaine rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. “She’s the company’s head of HR. You would know her if you were actually doing your j–“
“And what is she suitable for exactly?”
Elaine sighed, as though I was being difficult. “Nora, please don’t misunderstand.”
“I’m trying very hard not to,” I replied.
“Let's be frank here, Nora,” she began. “David needs an heir. He worked his ass off to build this company into what it is today and we can’t just let his legacy go to some stranger down the street!”
She sighed again in mock compassion, and put an arm on my shoulder.
“The succession of Reid Global needs to go to a Reid,” Elaine continued, “Maya is young and ambitious. She understands what it means to stand beside a man like David.”
“I already do that.”
“Yes,” Elaine said gently. “But circumstances have changed.”
I sucked in a breath as Doctor Patel’s words flashed through my head: ‘The damage to your uterus was quite severe, Nora. The chances of another pregnancy are very low. I’m sorry.’
I felt tears sting the back of my lids at the memory. I swallowed. “David is happily married.”
“I’m sure he believes that,” she said.
My fingers dug into my palm as I resisted the urge to punch her there and then. The worst part? I was angry because she was right.
“Thank you for the flowers, Elaine.” I said after a moment. “I think you should go.”
~
That night, David came home drunk.
It was rare. David did not lose control easily. When he did, it was because something had already shattered inside him.
He leaned heavily against me as I helped him through the door, the smell of whiskey clinging to him.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Long night.”
I guided him down the hallway, tugging off his shoes, my hands moving automatically. I tried not to look as we passed the closed door at the end of the hall.
The nursery.
I had not opened it since that fateful night months ago. Neither had he.
The pain was immediate the moment I remembered, like a physical thing that stole the breath from my lungs. The walls we had painted together. The crib he had assembled himself. The stuffed animal he had insisted on buying because it reminded him of his childhood.
Lucian.
I swallowed hard and kept walking.
David slumped onto the bed. “My mother won’t let it go,” he muttered.
“Maya?” I asked quietly.
He stiffened. “She told you about that?”
“Yes.”
“I told her no,” he said immediately. “Last month... The month before... even the month before that. I keep having to remind her I’m married.”
I sat beside him, pulling off his jacket. “And yet.”
“She won’t bloody stop,” he said. “She keeps talking about grandkids... heirs... the company. About what happens when I’m gone.”
“And what do you say?” I asked.
“I say I don’t want to hear it.” He looked up at me. “I’m not interested in anyone else. You know that.”
I said nothing.
He reached out a hand and put it softly above mine. I paused taking off his socks and met his brown eyes. “I don’t know how to fix this, Nora. I really wish I could.”
The vulnerability in his eyes at that very moment was enough to pause my breathing. I looked at him... really looked. He lost a child, just as I did. He was grieving just as I was. I knew it was unfair to blame him for what happened that night.
But it was just as unfair for him to take my choice away from me.
“I wish you could too,” I replied, turned and walked out of the room that was once ours.
In the guest bathroom I knelt in front of the toilet and threw up until my stomach was empty and my throat burned. Then I sat on the tile floor, back against the vanity, with my arms folded around my knees.
This wasn’t just grief anymore. It was resentment I couldn’t name. I knew he had no choice. The doctors said even if he had chosen the child, there’s a chance we both would’ve died anyway.
But knowing that didn’t help when you woke up to an empty nursery and a body that failed you twice.
I had slowly pushed David away after that. A turned shoulder in bed. A polite smile instead of a kiss. A locked door when he wanted to talk about trying again.
Eventually he stopped asking. And I stopped hoping.
The next morning I called Dr. Patel.
The doctor sat across from me, her expression unreadable as she looked through my charts.
“Well,” she said carefully. “This is unexpected.”
My heart stuttered. “Unexpected how? What’s wrong with me.”
“Well, we’ll have to do a scan to confirm, but the blood work is clear. HCG is strong.” She looked up and met my eyes with a small smile. “Congratulations, Nora. You’re pregnant.”