After My Husband Hides a Woman Next Door

My brand new iPhone 17 Pro had barely connected to the network when the screen lit up with an incoming call.
I answered, bewildered. On the other end was a woman on the verge of a breakdown, her voice as hoarse and sharp as a crows dying gasp.
Kate, I'm you from eighteen years in the future. We only have thirty seconds. Listen to me.
"You're doubting me, I know. But I also know your junior high crush was obsessed with corn dogs, your best friend in high school came out as butch, and the guy from the campus food truck asked you out in college."
A cold shock went through me. My breath hitched. I had never told a soul about those things.
Ignoring my astonishment, she continued, her voice trembling with every syllable.
"First, your husband is sleeping with your stepsister. They have a plan. They arranged for you to get pregnant at the same time so they can swap the babies and trick you into raising hers."
"Second, stay away from the kitchen and boiling water. On the day you give birth, they'll make their move. The only person you can trust is your high school friendthe one who came out."
"Third, do not divorce him. Find his medical reportthe one that says he's sickand shred it. Then just wait. Let him rot."

1
Outside the window, snowflakes drifted down, silently blanketing the yellow of the ginkgo leaves in the courtyard until all that remained was an innocent, unbroken white.
"Honey, who was that on the phone?"
My husband, Caleb, was curled up on our new, custom-made Italian leather sofa, looking drowsy and utterly content.
I put my phone down, hiding the tremor in my hands, and forced a placid smile. "No one important. Just a real estate agent asking if we were looking to buy. I hung up after a few seconds."
Our housekeeper, Maria, brought me a warm mug of milk with honey, reminding me to drink it before it got cold.
But my heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat that drowned out all peace.
That call it was everything. I had to get my hands on the medical report from my physical last week, and I had to be the first one to see it. It was the only way to know if that womans frantic warning was real.
An idea sparked. I feigned a pout and slipped on my cashmere coat. "Ugh, that new Prada bag I ordered finally arrived, but the delivery guy was too lazy to bring it up. He just left it with the doorman. I have to go get it."
Caleb stirred, pushing himself up from the sofa with a weary groan. He reached for his jacket. "It's snowing, and you're about to pop. You can barely move as it is. Let me go with you."
I froze at the door, my mind racing. If he came, how could I check the report? I'd always been the type to cling to him, insisting he come with me everywhere. Now my own habits were working against me.
Then my eyes landed on Maria, busy prepping vegetables in the kitchen. Inspiration struck. "No, no, you work so hard, pulling all those late nights. I can't bear to make you go out in the cold. I'll just ask Maria to come with me. Actually, I'm craving that roast chicken from the deli near the next building. She can pick one up."
Hearing that I wouldn't be alone, Caleb sank back into the sofa, a wave of relief washing over his face.
Maria had been with us for years; I knew her history. Asking her to come along should have been fine.
But as the elevator doors closed, the words from the phone call echoed in my head.
In that instant, I changed my mind.
True or not, until my baby was born and safe in my arms, I could only trust myself and the chilling message from the future.
Besides, the detail about my junior high crush almost no one knew that. I had only discovered his secret corn dog addiction after trailing him home from school for days. The most polished, handsome boy in school would sneak over to a stand near another school, buy two dozen corn dogs, and devour them by the riverbank before catching the bus home.
Snapping back to the present, I turned to Maria, putting on an air of urgency. "You know how it is with pregnancy cravings. I feel like I'll die if I don't get it right now! I can grab the package myself. You run and get me the juiciest roast chicken you can find."
"Oh, and a jasmine green tea latte from that caf next door, and a lemonade from the smoothie place. I need both."
"The doctor said I can eat whatever I want now that I'm so close. Don't worry, it's fine!"
Maria looked hesitant, but I was relentless, practically pushing her out the door.
Once she was gone, I cautiously opened my email and found the attached file from the clinic. My eyes scanned the document until they landed on the final lines.
The world tilted on its axis. My knees buckled, and I had to grip the wall to keep from collapsing.
A blade of ice twisted in my gut. Fear and dread consumed me. I took several deep, shuddering breaths to steady myself.
"Pulmonary lesions. Further examination recommended. Risk of malignancy."

2
Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging. Caleb and I had been through so much since college, a whirlwind of triumphs and challenges, but he had always been the picture of health. How could he be sick?
My vision blurred. Early detection, early treatment, I thought desperately. Maybe it wasn't serious.
Clutching the phone like a lifeline, my mind went blank. All I wanted was to run upstairs, throw myself into his arms, and weep out all my love and fear. I stabbed at the elevator button.
But then, the mysterious phone call and a nagging question collided in my mind.
Where is Lily?
My stepsister, Lily, had been part of my life for as long as I could remember. My parents took her in when we were just toddlers. Normally, she was always around, showing up to "sample" whatever nice thing I had.
But I hadn't seen her in months. Even her calls had become rare.
A while back, an old classmate had started a rumor that Lily was pregnant. At the time, she'd been so sure, so full of gossipy detail.
I had shut her down, fiercely defending my stepsister. "Lily hasn't even dated anyone in years. You must have mistaken her gaining a little weight for a baby bump. You're ruining her reputation, you know. Watch what you say."
My classmate had turned beet-red, her voice dripping with resentment. "Hah. You call her your sister, but I doubt she feels the same. You're so naive, sticking up for her. She's been stealing your things since we were kids. You'd better watch out, or she'll steal your husband next."
Her words, so absurd then, now seemed to click into place, forming a terrifying mosaic.
A dark premonition coiled in my stomach.
I opened Instagram, pulling up Lilys profile. For the past few months, she had only shared links to songs and articles. Not a single photo. For someone who lived for posting selfies, it was a massive red flag.
A gust of wind swirled into the lobby, carrying snowflakes that melted instantly against my skin, the cold shock clearing my head.
I turned away from the elevator, wiped the tears from my cheeks, and with a grim resolve, tore the printed report into tiny pieces. I walked out of the building and stuffed the confetti into a trash can by the neighboring apartment tower.
But when I got back upstairs, Maria was whispering something to Caleb.
He turned to me, his expression casual, but his eyes were sharp, probing. "Why'd you go over to the next building just now?"
My stomach dropped. Why were they so fixated on that building? Why did even walking past it warrant an interrogation?
I remembered then. For the past six months, Caleb had been parking his Bentley over there constantly.
A neighbor had even mentioned it. "Hey, Kate, why's your husband always parking his Bentley in our lot? Did you guys rent out your spot or is he keeping a little secret over here?"
"Oh, you know, he just parks wherever's convenient. Our assigned spot is so far away," I'd replied, laughing it off.
All these moments, these stray comments, now echoed in my ears.
I took off my coat, turned on the TV, and sank into the softer of our two sofas. Rubbing my swollen ankles, I stared blankly at an old episode of The Good Wife.
"It was nothing," I said lightly. "I just saw a beautiful white cat. You know how much I love cats. I was just curious."
I was a terrible liar, and Caleb knew me as someone without a manipulative bone in her body. My simple explanation seemed to work; the suspicion in his eyes faded.
A little while later, I slipped into the bathroom, opened Spotify, and switched to a burner account. I went to the "People Nearby" feature and started scrolling.
And there it was. A familiar pink profile picture jumped out at me. The location tag beneath it read: 300 meters away.
I tapped on the first post.
So thrilling. My brother-in-law moved me into the apartment building next door. Says its to take care of me. More like take care of his little friend downstairs, if you know what I mean.
Pregnancy hormones are no joke, but he just cant get enough. Slow down, Caleb, Im so swollen I can barely walk. I can't take it anymore.

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