Chapter 24
I never thought peace would feel this loud-
like my heart had finally stopped bracing for a
fall.
The morning sun filtered through our
bedroom windows, golden and warm, as
Scott gently placed his hand over my
stomach. I wasn’t even showing yet, but the
smile on his face made it feel like we were
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
already holding the baby.
“You sure it’s in there?” he whispered, eyes.
full of wonder.
I laughed, brushing my hair back. “You’ve
asked me that every day for two weeks.”
“I just like hearing it again,” he said, then
leaned forward to kiss my forehead. “We’re
really going to be parents.”
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We had found out a month after the wedding.
I took the test alone in the boutique restroom,
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
not wanting to overthink it.
When I saw the result, I just… froze. And then
cried. I cried so hard my assistant thought
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something terrible had happened. But it was
the opposite. Everything was finally good.
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When I told Scott that night, he blinked.
Twice. Then fell on his knees and hugged my
waist, speechless. He stayed like that for
minutes, just holding me.
“Thank you,” he had whispered. “For trusting
- me. For this.”
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
The pregnancy went by with a rhythm I
hadn’t expected. Nausea. Cravings. Swollen
feet. And still–Scott was there.
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Every ultrasound. Every appointment. He
brought me mangos at midnight. Built the
crib by hand even though we could’ve just
ordered one. Talked to the baby every night
like he was already a father.
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Once, during my seventh month, I caught him
reading parenting books and taking notes.
“Planning on opening a daycare?” I teased.
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
“No,” he grinned. “Just don’t want to mess up.
Not with you. Not with them.”
Then came the day.
I thought I’d have more time—at least another
week. But babies don’t wait for well–laid
plans. We were watching a movie when I felt
the first sharp pain. At first I thought it was
another Braxton–Hicks, but then the second
wave came. Stronger.
“Scott…” I said, breath hitching. “I think it’s
time.”
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
I had never seen him move so fast.
He helped me into the car, calmly panicking.
That’s what I called it. Scott in crisis mode
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was composed, but his eyes betrayed the
storm underneath.
“You’re doing amazing,” he kept repeating in
the hospital. “I’m right here.”
Labor wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t elegant. But it
was real. Every scream, every push–it was
raw, exhausting, and powerful.
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I had never seen him move so fast.
He helped me into the car, calmly panicking.
That’s what I called it. Scott in crisis mode
was composed, but his eyes betrayed the
storm underneath.
“You’re doing amazing,” he kept repeating in
the hospital. “I’m right here.”
Labor wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t elegant. But it
was real. Every scream, every push–it was
raw, exhausting, and powerful.
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Sun 22 Jun
My Husband Faked Our Marriage
And then–everything stopped. The room fell
silent for a beat, and then–Crying.
The sound of our baby crying.
A nurse handed me a small, squirming
bundle wrapped in white.
“A girl,” she said, smiling.
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I looked at her. She was perfect. Red cheeks.
Tiny hands. Dark hair.
Scott’s voice cracked as he whispered, “She’s
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
ours.”
Tears streamed down my face as I held her
close. I had never known love like this. Not
even with Scott. This was something else.
Something ancient and new at once.
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We named her Isla. A name I’d once written in
a childhood notebook, beside sketches of
gowns and stars.
For the first week, we barely slept. Not
because Isla cried–but because we couldn’t
stop staring at her.
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
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Scott would wake up before her and hold her
against his chest, humming lullabies off–key.
One night, I woke to find him asleep in the
rocking chair, their heads pressed together,
both dreaming.
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My heart had never felt fuller. And then came
the honeymoon.
We hadn’t had time for one after the
wedding. But now, Scott surprised me with a
quiet weekend trip–just the two of us, while
Isla stayed with my mom for a few days.
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
It wasn’t extravagant. Just a secluded beach
house. No reception. No noise. Just waves
and wind and the scent of sun on skin.
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The first night, we danced under the stars. No
music. Just the rhythm of the sea and our
breaths syncing again.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered against
my neck. “More than ever.”
“You’re biased,” I smiled.
“I’m in love,” he said. “So maybe.”
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
He kissed me, slow and deep. And for a
moment, we weren’t parents, or
entrepreneurs, or people who’d once been
broken. We were just two people–healing,
hoping, holding on.
Later, curled beside him in bed, I whispered,
“Do you ever think about before?”
He looked at me. “I do. But only to thank the
universe you found your way to me.”
I touched his face, soft and sure. “You saved
me.”
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My Husband Faked Our Marriage
“No,” he said, kissing my palm. “We saved
each other.”
And I believed it.
Because in the end, it wasn’t about the pain
we came from it was about the peace we
built after.
And here, wrapped in love and moonlight, I
finally felt whole.
Pregnant and running away with the billionare’s twins
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