Chapter 4: The Secret Rachel Kept From Me
The message stayed on my screen for the entire drive to Pittsburgh.
I read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
*You need to ask Rachel why she never told you about the night your baby was conceived.*
My fingers went numb.
The taxi moved through the dark streets, windshield wipers pushing away the rain that had started again.
The driver kept his eyes on the road.
I kept mine on the message.
Because there was one sentence in that text that terrified me more than anything Derek had done.
Not the accusation.
Not the mystery.
The fact that whoever sent it knew something about my pregnancy.
Something about me.
Something about that night.
I looked at the contact.
Unknown number.
I typed a reply.
*Who is this?*
The message delivered.
No response.
I waited.
Nothing.
Another minute passed.
Still nothing.
“Ma’am?””
I looked up.
The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror.
“You need me to pull over?””
I quickly wiped my face.
“No.””
“You sure?””
I forced a nod.
“Yes.””
He looked unconvinced but turned back to the road.
I placed my hand over my stomach.
My daughter moved slightly.
A tiny reminder that no matter how much my world had fallen apart, something beautiful was still coming.
But the question wouldn’t leave my mind.
What happened the night she was conceived?
I knew the answer.
Or at least I thought I did.
It was the night Derek and I celebrated our anniversary.
The night he forgot dinner reservations.
The night he came home late.
The night we argued.
The night he apologized.
The night he held me and promised we were going to be okay.
That night.
The one I had replayed a thousand times.
The one I had considered proof that we still loved each other.
Now someone was telling me I didn’t know the truth.
My phone rang.
Rachel.
I stared at her name.
For years, that name had meant safety.
Comfort.
Home.
But now there was a question buried underneath it.
Why didn’t she tell me?
I answered.
“Hey.””
“Are you almost here?””
Her voice sounded relieved.
“About twenty minutes.””
“Good.””
I said nothing.
Rachel noticed.
She always noticed.
“What happened?””
I looked out the window.
“Someone texted me.””
Silence.
Not normal silence.
A guilty silence.
My chest tightened.
“Rachel.””
“What did they say?””
I swallowed.
“They told me to ask you why you never told me about the night my baby was conceived.””
The line went completely quiet.
The kind of quiet that confirmed everything.
“Rachel?””
She exhaled slowly.
“Who sent that?””
“I asked first.””
“Emma…”
“Who sent it?””
“I don’t know.””
“That’s not an answer.””
“I really don’t know.””
I closed my eyes.
The anger came slowly.
Not explosive.
Not loud.
The kind that settled deep.
“You knew something.””
“Emma.””
“You knew something.””
She didn’t deny it.
And that hurt more than if she had argued.
“What happened?””
“I need you to come here.””
“No.””
My voice surprised even me.
“No, Rachel. I’m tired of everyone telling me they’ll explain later.””
The taxi turned onto the highway.
I watched the lights blur outside.
“I deserve the truth before I arrive.””
Rachel was quiet.
Then she said:
“Okay.””
Just one word.
But it sounded heavy.
“Three weeks before your anniversary, I saw Derek.””
My heart sank.
“Where?””
“At a bar.””
I frowned.
“Derek doesn’t go to bars.””
“I know.””
“When?””
“The night before your anniversary.””
I felt a strange chill.
“Why were you there?””
“Meeting an old coworker.””
“And Derek?””
“I saw him leave.””
“With who?””
Rachel didn’t answer.
“Rachel.””
“With a woman.””
My stomach tightened.
“Megan?””
“No.””
The answer came quickly.
Too quickly.
“Then who?””
“I didn’t know.””
The taxi engine hummed.
The world outside kept moving.
But my life felt frozen.
“What did she look like?””
“Emma…”
“What did she look like?””
Rachel sighed.
“Blonde hair.””
My mind immediately searched.
“No.””
“I’m sorry.””
“No.””
I shook my head.
“No, that doesn’t make sense.””
“Emma.””
“Derek would never.””
The words left my mouth automatically.
The same words I had said for months.
The same defense I had used until I was exhausted.
Rachel’s voice softened.
“That’s what I told myself too.””
I felt tears forming.
Not because I believed Derek was innocent.
I already knew he wasn’t.
But because every new piece of information forced me to rewrite my entire marriage.
“Who was she?””
“I don’t know.””
“Did you follow them?””
“No.””
“Did you talk to him?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“The next morning.””
The anniversary.
The day Derek forgot.
“What did you say?””
“I asked if everything was okay.””
“And?””
“He got angry.””
I looked down.
Of course he did.
“What did he say?””
“He said I was imagining things.””
A bitter laugh escaped me.
“That sounds familiar.””
Rachel didn’t respond.
“Then why didn’t you tell me?””
The question sat between us.
Finally, Rachel answered.
“Because you were happy.””
I closed my eyes.
Happy.
Was I?
Or was I just determined to believe I was?
“You don’t get to decide what truth I can handle.””
“I know.””
“No, Rachel. You don’t.””
My voice cracked.
“You were the one person I trusted.””
“I know.””
“And you kept something from me.””
“I was trying to protect you.””
I looked out at the dark highway.
Everyone kept using that phrase.
Protect you.
As if the truth was a weapon.
As if I was too fragile to hold it.
“I didn’t need protection.””
My voice became quiet.
“I needed my sister.””
Rachel started crying.
“I’m sorry.””
I looked away.
“I know.””
The taxi became silent again.
After a moment, Rachel spoke.
“There’s something else.””
I almost laughed.
Of course there was.
“Go ahead.””
“The night you got pregnant…”
My hand froze.
“Rachel.””
“I need you to understand something.””
“Understand what?””
“Derek wasn’t the only person who was acting strange.””
My heart started racing.
“What does that mean?””
She hesitated.
“After your anniversary dinner, Derek called me.””
“Why?””
“He was drunk.””
I frowned.
“Derek doesn’t get drunk.””
“He did that night.””
“What did he say?””
Rachel took a breath.
“He asked me if you were happy.””
I didn’t understand.
“What?””
“He kept asking if you were happy with him.””
A strange sadness moved through me.
“Why?””
“I thought he was feeling guilty.””
“About what?””
“I didn’t know.””
The highway lights passed over my face.
“Rachel…”
“He sounded scared.””
“Scared of what?””
“I don’t know.””
Another silence.
Then she said:
“But there’s one thing I remember.””
“What?””
“He said something that didn’t make sense at the time.””
I waited.
“What did he say?””
Rachel’s voice dropped.
“He said, ‘If she finds out what happened that night, she’ll never forgive me.’”
My breath caught.
The taxi seemed suddenly too small.
“What happened that night?””
“I don’t know.””
“But you knew something was wrong.””
“Yes.””
“And you still said nothing.””
“I was wrong.””
I looked at my phone.
At the unknown message.
At Derek’s name.
At the life I thought I understood.
“Rachel.””
“Yes?””
“Did you know before tonight that Derek had a paternity test?””
“No.””
“Did you know about the apartment?””
“No.””
“Did you know about Megan?””
“No.””
I believed her.
Because Rachel was many things.
But she wasn’t a liar.
Not usually.
“Then who sent that message?””
“I don’t know.””
The taxi slowed.
“We’re almost there.””
I looked ahead.
The lights of Pittsburgh appeared in the distance.
A city I had planned to visit after my baby was born.
A city that suddenly represented a new beginning.
Or maybe the place where I would finally learn how much of my old life was fake.
My phone buzzed.
Another message.
Same unknown number.
This time, there was a photo attached.
My blood turned cold.
I opened it.
It was a picture of Derek.
But not from recently.
Not from his apartment.
Not with Megan.
It was from three weeks before my anniversary.
Derek was standing outside a hospital.
And beside him was a woman holding a newborn baby.
My heart stopped.
Because I recognized the hospital.
I recognized the woman.
And I recognized the baby blanket.
The same blanket my mother knitted.
The same blanket I packed in my hospital bag.
The message underneath the photo appeared.
*You need to know what Derek was doing before you became pregnant, Emma.*
I stared at the image.
Then Rachel’s voice came through the phone.
“Emma?””
I couldn’t speak.
Because the woman in the picture was someone I knew.
Someone I trusted.
Someone who had been standing beside me this entire time.
May you like
And the baby in her arms…
Was wearing the exact same blanket I had saved for my daughter.
