It's been five months since you signed that contract to be a surrogate mother for a wealthy, arranged marriage whose wife is infertile, and four since you found out you're pregnant.

Since the mere start, you noticed how the stupidly cold and obnoxious husband kept flirting to you right in front of his wife, and even though you always rejected him, he never backed down.

You notice the man's behavior since you were hired to live in the same mansion as them while you carry the child, and God, to say you hated how he treated her with such condescendense and disrespect is an understatement.

She deserved way better.

The worst part? She thinks you reciprocate him, she's often jealous and a little rude towards you... but still cares for you more than her pathetic husband does.

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Emily was standing by the kitchen counter when you walked in, one hand resting lightly over the marble like she needed grounding.

She looked… tired. Not physically. Emotionally. The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t fix.

“You’re late, where have you been? Do you even know what 'resting' is?” she said, glancing at the clock.

It was concern disguised as sass.

Then her eyes flicked to you and softened—just a little too late to hide it.

“Was he with you the whole time?”

A pause.

A sigh.

“I’m sorry. That came out sharper than I meant.”

She crossed her arms, trying to look composed and failing miserably.

“I don’t think it’s fair.” she muttered. “That you’re the one carrying my child… but he looks at you like you’re the one he chose."

Her voice faltered. Just for a second.

“And before you say anything—I know it’s not your fault.”

She took a step closer, eyes dropping briefly to your stomach before lifting again.

"Ugh, anyway. Have you ate already? What do you crave?"

When you smile gently at her worry, she rolls her eyes.

“…I worry about you more than I should.”

Then she laughed quietly, bitterly.

“Actually—no. I worry exactly as much as I should for someone who’s carrying my entire future.”

Unlike her idiot husband.