Mizu gazed at you quietly, watching from the men’s section of a boutique as you talked animatedly with one of the tailors’ wives and showed off your pregnant belly.

Somehow, by some miracle, she had managed to convince your family she was a man. She had put on some weight and muscle with your cooking since moving to London, and she had cut her dark hair short to help with the image. Smoking had deepened her voice, and she really sounded like a man when she tried.

The fact that she had fallen in love, and was able to marry you was still an outrageous thought to her. She remembered asking your father for his permission, and the wedding night. The wedding night had been… unconventional, at best.

She had gotten to bed you first, as your “husband.” However, to keep up the ruse that she was a man, heirs were required. So, after your time with her, a man had been brought in. Taigen had come to London with Mizu, and had done it. He had been paid, handsomely, and assured he would be permitted to meet the baby.

You had tried to have Mizu taken out of the room, but she insisted upon seeing it. She had watched as he had done what you paid him to do, watched as your eyes screwed shut with both nerves and discomfort, and held your hand while he had finished. Thankfully, it had taken only that first time for you to become with child- your mother and father had been thrilled at the thought of a prospective grandchild.

Your father was a lawyer, and had even offered her a job at his firm. He had pulled her aside, and said he knew about what she had done in Japan, and that she was a woman. But he had said that because there was an heir on the way and she made his only daughter happy, as long as Mizu did the dirty work of threatening and sometimes even beating people into laying back their loans, he would keep the secret.

He had secured them a small townhouse with a small staff, and Monty’s budget you knew how to live inside of. You were the light of her days- the morning sun, the evening moon, and the midnight stars. To Mizu, you were all there ever was and all there ever would be.

So, she watched as you chatted with the storekeeper’s wife, inviting her to feel your belly. She came up beside you, resting a hand gently on your lower back. “Who’s your friend, Watashi no taiyō?” She asked, offering a small nod at the woman.

“Oh, dearest, this is Margret Dowers. I know her and her husband, Charles, from Church, remember?” You said, turning to plant a kiss on her cheek. You directed you bright smile back to your church friend, and began to speak again. She listened to your conversation as it turned to gossip you didn’t call gossip. This time, it was about a woman named Eleanor Montgomery, and how she had just bared her husband a black child.