My Unborn Son's Secret

My husband wasn’t just bankrupt, he was cheating—the cheap, sordid kind. I’d had enough.

The moment he walked through the door, coated in the dust and exhaustion of a day on a construction site, I let the words hang in the air between us, cold and sharp. “I want a divorce.”

Leo stared at me for a moment, the fatigue on his face settling into a kind of calm resolve. “Okay,” he nodded, his voice flat. “I’ll take a half-day tomorrow. We can file the papers.”

And just then, a strange, childlike voice echoed in my mind.

Oh, my clueless mommy. Dad didn't cheat. And he's about to make a huge comeback. This is all a trap set by the Transmigrator. She wants you to divorce him so she can swoop in.

After the divorce, you get scammed out of your money and your dignity, and you end up dead on the street. Two bodies, one grave. Meanwhile, she helps Dad through the hard times, becomes the enviable Mrs. Archer, and gets spoiled by him for the rest of her life.

I waited in line for decades for a chance to be born, and I fought like hell to be reborn this one time. For the love of God, Mom, get your act together!

The voice faded. The shock hit me like a physical blow, and a raw sob tore from my throat.

“You don’t love me at all!” I wailed, the accusation tasting like ash in my mouth. “I say divorce and you just agree? You don’t even try to stop me? You bastard!”

1

Leo, who had probably never witnessed such a shameless, whiplash-inducing reversal, just stood there, stunned. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice laced with weary resignation.

“You don’t have to worry. You can have whatever money we have left. I won’t let you take on any of my debt.”

He wasn’t taking the bait. I wiped at my non-existent tears, my voice full of righteous anger. “The only reason I want a divorce is because you cheated!”

The weariness in his expression deepened. “If you want out, just say it. I won’t drag this on. You don’t have to make up excuses.”

A knot of panic tightened in my stomach. If I didn’t handle this perfectly, right now, it would become a thorn between us forever. A permanent splinter that would seriously impact how much money he’d be willing to… spend on me in the future.

“I have proof!” I scrambled for my phone, ready to show him the video a stranger had sent me—of him at a seedy massage parlor.

But when I opened the message thread, the video was gone. It had simply vanished.

“Huh? Where did it go?”

I looked up, my eyes wide with a frantic, helpless energy. “I’m not lying, Leo. Someone really sent me a video of you… getting a happy ending!”

Leo’s brow furrowed slightly, but he remained silent. I couldn’t read his expression, which only fueled my panic.

“I don’t care if you believe me or not,” I declared, my voice shaking. “I’m not getting a divorce!”

At least, not right now. If we were going to split, it would be after he made his comeback, and I could walk away with a very comfortable settlement.

Leo’s face was still a mask. He started toward the bathroom, his voice devoid of emotion. “Whatever you want. I’ll be ready whenever you change your mind again.”

I knew he was angry with me now. I stomped my foot in frustration. The… baby in my belly was just as agitated.

An old saying goes, ‘A harsh word is like a winter wind in June.’ Dad’s heart must be completely frozen over. We’re screwed!

But Dad is loyal. As long as Mom shamelessly refuses to leave, his personality won't let him force a divorce.

The biggest problem is still that Transmigrator. If Mom and Dad don’t split up, she’ll definitely keep making trouble. That witch!

Transmigrator? Who is she?

I was about to whisper the question out loud, but then I felt a mental yawn from my unborn son.

So sleepy… time for a nap…

And just like that, he was gone.

2

The way Leo and I met was like something out of a movie. A very strange movie. He was a self-made small business owner. I was just a regular girl with a nine-to-five.

One night, I was drowning my sorrows after my college sweetheart dumped me for some trust-fund kid. I was drunk and looking to do something reckless. As it happened, he’d just escaped a business meeting where someone had drugged his drink. We ran into each other on the street.

We were a perfect storm of desperation and bad decisions. The next morning, he said he had to take responsibility.

He was tall, handsome, surprisingly wealthy, and I was his first. What reason did I have to say no? We were at the courthouse by noon.

Leo was quiet and his work kept him busy, so I never felt that all-consuming kind of love from him. But he was generous with his money, and that was a language I understood. I didn’t fuss over the love part.

Then, the market turned. His company went under, and he was left with nothing but a mountain of debt. Still, he shielded me from the worst of it, never letting me go without. That, plus the fact that he was still gorgeous, meant I hadn’t seriously considered leaving.

Until this afternoon, when a random number sent me that video. That’s what triggered my demand for a divorce.

As for the little guy in my belly, I had no idea he even existed until I heard his thoughts.

Leo must still care about having a child, right? The thought gave me a sliver of reassurance.

He was quick in the shower, emerging in under ten minutes wrapped in a single towel. Water droplets clung to the hard lines of his muscles, his skin a warm bronze. For a second, my mouth went dry. Then I remembered the tiny passenger I was carrying, and the heat fizzled out.

“Is pasta okay for dinner?” My mood had been so foul I hadn’t bothered to cook.

Leo dried his hair with a towel, his tone cool. “I’ll make it.”

He walked into the bedroom without another look at me to change. I could tell he was still stewing over the divorce comment. I honestly thought he’d cheated, that’s why I’d said it. Now, thinking about the baby, a strange wave of self-pity washed over me. My nose prickled, and tears started to well up.

When Leo came out, he glanced at my face but said nothing, heading straight for the kitchen. I wanted to tell him I was pregnant, but my pride was still smarting. Besides, we’d just slept together last night. The thought made me decide to slip out to the pharmacy for a couple of pregnancy tests first.

3

When I got home, Leo was sitting on our worn-out sofa, lost in thought. He looked up the second I walked in, his eyes lighting up for a fraction of a second before the hope flickered out, leaving them dull again.

“The pasta’s ready,” he said quietly.

I looked at the two bowls on the table, one larger than the other, then back at his cold, distant face. My appetite vanished.

“I’m not hungry. You eat.”

I clutched the small plastic bag and disappeared into the bathroom. As I expected, no second line appeared on the tests. It was too soon. Even a blood test at the hospital wouldn’t show anything yet. I’d have to wait a few more days to tell him.

I washed my hands and came out. Leo was still on the sofa, a storm cloud of gloom hanging over him. He looked utterly alone. I sat down cautiously on the other end of the couch, and we lapsed into silence.

Both of us came from unhappy families; it was part of what had propelled us into such a hasty marriage. In the two years since, he’d spent two-thirds of his time on the road for work. We were together so little, and we never found a common language to bridge the distance. To be honest, we communicated more in bed than we ever did out of it.

I knew he was under immense pressure, but I didn’t know how to help. I’m not the motivational speaker type, so the best I could do was try not to bother him.

For some reason, I felt particularly fragile tonight. Before I knew it, tears were silently tracking down my cheeks.

Leo glanced over, then quickly looked away. His voice was tired, resigned. “With my situation now… it might be like this forever. Leaving me is the right choice. I won’t blame you. You don’t need to feel guilty.”

He really was hung up on what I’d said. The thought made my chest ache. I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up and went back to the bedroom.

The apartment was silent for a long, heavy half-hour before I heard the faint rustle of movement. About ten minutes after that, the front door opened and closed.

A single thought seared through my mind: He’s leaving me.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. A gut-wrenching sob broke from me, and I started to howl, burying my face in the pillow. I was so lost in my grief that I didn’t hear the door open again.

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open. Leo stood there, pinching his nose, holding out a container of takeout ramen. The pungent, savory smell filled the room.

“Eat something,” he said. “Don’t starve yourself.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. It took me a moment to process. I grabbed a tissue, scrubbed at my tear-streaked face, and mumbled, “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

See? That’s how we were. So formal, so polite. Like strangers.

4

Leo never went to college; he’d been working since he graduated high school. After his logistics company went bankrupt, he went back to his old job: manual labor on construction sites.

I’d tried to find work three times, but each time, after just a few days, I’d end up dealing with some disgusting creep hitting on me. Leo eventually told me to just stay home.

So my days were spent doing chores and filming faceless style-transformation videos for social media. I’d build up a small following and make a little pocket money selling clothes through my affiliate links.

I took the ramen to the living room and ate it between sobs. While I ate, Leo quietly cleaned the apartment, washing the clothes and tidying up. When he was done, he walked over to me with a small suitcase in his hand.

“My boss just called. He wants me to manage a project out of town. I’ll be gone for a few days. Be careful while you’re here alone.”

He’d been coming home every night lately. I’d gotten used to it. The thought of him leaving sent a jolt of panic through me.

“How many days is ‘a few’?”

“A week, if it goes fast. Two weeks at the most.”

“Oh. Well, try to come back sooner.”

“Okay.”

He hesitated for a moment. “About the divorce… think it over seriously. Whatever you decide, I’ll accept it. I won’t hold it against you.”

Just hearing the word “divorce” made my teeth ache.

“It was just something I said because I was angry. If you don’t believe me, fine.”

He looked like he wanted to say more, but just sighed and nodded. “Okay. Take care of yourself. Call me if you need anything.”

“Mhm.”

…

After Leo left, it felt like a piece of me went with him. I was on edge every day. My baby’s inner voice appeared twice more during that time. I tried talking to him, and to my surprise, he could hear me.

I asked him who the Transmigrator was. He said he’d died too young in the previous timeline and didn’t know much. Everything he knew about my death and his father’s future came from things he overheard other “souls” talking about while he was waiting to be reborn. He didn’t know her specific identity.

Leo texted me a few times a day to make sure I was okay. There was no sweet talk, but knowing he was thinking of me was enough.

That lasted until the day before he was due back. After three in the afternoon, his messages stopped. I figured he was busy, or maybe just slacking off since he was about to come home, so I didn’t worry too much.

I knew he was coming back the next evening. I even went out and bought groceries to cook a special meal for him. But I waited until almost ten, and he still wasn’t home.

I couldn’t wait any longer and sent him a text. No reply. I called him. The phone rang for a long time before someone picked up. It was Leo’s voice, but it was cold.

“What’s up?”

The anxiety in my chest intensified. “When are you coming home? There’s something I need to tell you.”

There was a long pause before he answered. “I’ll be home in an hour.”

I let out a small breath of relief. Talking in person was better anyway.

“Okay. I’ll wait for you.”

“Alright.”

5

Leo arrived exactly one hour later. But he seemed to be in a terrible mood, radiating a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

I thought maybe something had gone wrong at work and was debating whether this was the right time to tell him about the baby. He spoke before I could.

“Let’s go file for divorce on Monday. I just got a three-thousand-dollar bonus. You can have that, plus the rest of our savings.”

He pulled a thick envelope of cash from his bag and set it on the table.

I froze. I thought we’d agreed not to get divorced. Why had he suddenly changed his mind?

My nose tingled, and my eyes instantly filled with tears. “What are you talking about?”

Leo turned his face away, refusing to look at me. “I know you’ve had a hard time since I lost everything. This is all I have right now. If things get better for me down the line, I’ll give you more.”

The dam broke. Tears streamed down my face, my mind a complete blank. I couldn’t even begin to wonder if there was some kind of misunderstanding.

My son woke up and started wailing in my womb.

Well, my world is officially ending.

It’s okay, Mom, it’s okay. Just have me, and when he gets rich again, we’ll sue him for child support. A lot of it. We can still live the high life, and you won’t even have a man telling you what to do. It’ll be great!

He actually had a point. If that was the plan, I shouldn’t burn the bridge completely.

“I’ll only take half the money.”

Leo’s tone was firm. “You don’t have to leave any for me. I can earn more. The rent is paid for the next five months. You stay here, I’ll move out.”

“Fine, whatever!”

I spun around and stormed into the bedroom, burying my face in the pillows and letting out small, choked sobs.

Leo stayed in the living room for a while before coming in to pack his things. I pulled the covers over my head, muffling my cries. He didn’t have much, so it didn't take long. I heard every sound: his footsteps leaving the bedroom, crossing the living room, and the final, definitive click of the front door closing.

Once he was gone, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I cried until I was exhausted, finally drifting into a restless sleep.

I don’t know how much later it was when I woke up, feeling awful. I was burning up with a fever. We had cold medicine and fever reducers in the cabinet, but I was afraid to take anything that might harm the baby. From experience, I knew if I could just push through the first three days, it would get better.

But those three days were hell. The fever wouldn't break, and my whole body ached. When you’re sick, everything feels fragile—your body and your mind. I couldn't stop thinking about the other times I’d been sick when Leo was home. He was never one for sweet words, but he would take care of me, quietly and meticulously. The memory made the ache in my heart even worse.

At my lowest point, I broke down and called him. The phone rang and rang. Finally, someone answered, but it was a sweet, feminine voice.

“Hi, Leo is pretty drunk right now. Can he call you back when he sobers up?”

“Never mind,” I snapped, and hung up. I collapsed back onto the bed and cried myself to sleep.

In that hazy space between waking and sleeping, I felt a cool cloth on my face, gently wiping my forehead. I forced my eyes open and thought I saw Leo’s face floating in the dim light. I must have been hallucinating. I remember babbling, sometimes begging him not to go, other times cursing him for being a bastard.

After what felt like an eternity, the agonizing ache finally subsided, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

6

I slept until I woke up naturally. As my eyes fluttered open, I saw a figure sitting by my bed. The sight shocked me fully awake.

I pushed myself up, my gaze cold and hard. We sat in a tense silence for a few seconds before Leo finally broke it.

“Is it mine?”

I looked down. He was holding the pregnancy test I’d thrown in the trash three days ago.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I snarled, my voice raw. “Are you accusing me of cheating on you?!”

I was ready to explode, but then I saw his eyes. They were red-rimmed and glistening. My anger instantly deflated, getting stuck somewhere in my throat, making it hard to breathe. It just made me want to cry again. Tears spilled over and streamed down my cheeks.

“We’re getting a divorce anyway, what does it matter if it’s yours?” I said, lashing out with a newfound malice. “And I’ll tell you this: whether I have this baby or not is my decision. You have no say in it!”

A dark thought took root in my mind. I wouldn’t just have this baby and demand a fortune in child support. I would make sure to parade our child in front of him and that Transmigrator every chance I got. Just to twist the knife.

Leo stared at me for a few moments, his voice thick. “Someone sent me a video from an anonymous number. It was… of you and your ex-boyfriend. At a hotel.”

I blinked, then I saw red. “I haven’t left this apartment in a week! Even my groceries are delivered! When the hell was I supposedly meeting my ex at a hotel?!”

He watched me, his gaze intense, trying to decipher the truth from my expression. “The video wasn’t a fake. It was you. Unless there’s someone in the world who looks exactly like you.”

“Impossible!” I shrieked. “I’ve been here the whole time!”

Wait a minute. This whole scenario felt eerily familiar.

“The video. Let me see it.” I snatched the phone from his pocket. I knew his passcode, so getting in was easy. But I wasn’t used to his phone’s layout, so I shoved it back at him. “You do it.”

Leo took the phone and slowly scrolled through his messages. But there was no video.

“It’s gone,” he said, frowning in thought.

I let out a cold, bitter laugh and collapsed onto the bed, starting to sob dramatically. “Fine! If you think I cheated, then I cheated! We’ll go file the papers tomorrow! Whoever doesn’t show up is a spineless coward!”

About ten seconds passed. Then, strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me from the mattress and pulling me into a hug. Leo’s voice was a low murmur against my hair.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you. It’s all my fault.”

I had only been pretending to cry, but his words broke something open inside me. All the pent-up grief and hurt came pouring out, and my fake sobs turned into real, gut-wrenching tears.

“I got a video of you at that massage parlor, too,” I choked out. “But when you said it wasn’t true, I believed you.”

“I believe you, but you don’t believe me! We can’t live like this!”

“I don’t want a divorce. I’m the spineless coward. It’s all my fault. Please, baby, don’t cry.”

Baby?

He’d never called me that before. The thought only made me cry harder.

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