Valerie’s POV
I walked into the living room, expecting to find Damian watching TV or reading a book. But instead, I froze, my heart sinking. Damian sat on the couch, Rachel, our surrogate, leaning in close, her hand on his thigh.
My mind reeled as I processed the scene. What was going on? Rachel’s laughter echoed through the room, and Damian’s smile… No, this can’t be happening. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
How could he do this to me? Has our relationship meant nothing to him? I couldn’t shake the image of Rachel’s hand on his thigh. I turned and fled, not wanting to confront them.
Tears streamed down my face as I locked myself in our bedroom. Hours passed, and I heard the door open.
“Valerie?” Damian called softly.
I didn’t respond.
“Valerie, please talk to me,” Damian pleaded.
I remained silent, my anger and hurt boiling.
Damian entered the room, sitting beside me on the bed. “Valerie, what’s wrong?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
“You know exactly what’s wrong,” I spat.
Damian’s expression changed from concern to confusion. “Valerie, what did I do?”
“Rachel,” I said, my voice trembling.
Damian’s eyes widened. “What about Rachel?”
“Don’t play dumb,” I snapped.
“Valerie, listen,” Damian said, taking my hands. “Rachel threw herself at me. I swear, I didn’t encourage her.”
I scoffed. “Save it.”
“Valerie, I’m telling the truth,” Damian insisted. “She’s been flirting with me for weeks. I’ve been trying to avoid her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I demanded.
“I didn’t want to worry you,” Damian replied. “And I thought I could handle it myself.”
I shook my head, tears falling.
“Valerie, believe me,” Damian pleaded. “I would never betray you. I love you, Valerie. Only you.”
“Then why was she touching you?” I asked.
Damian sighed. “She came over to discuss the surrogacy. Then, out of nowhere, she started flirting. I tried to politely brush her off, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
His words slowly sank in. Could it be true?
“Tell me what happened,” I said, my voice softer.
Damian recounted the events, from Rachel’s subtle advances to her outright flirtation.
“I’m sorry,” Damian said. “For not telling you sooner. For not being more careful.”
“I’m sorry too,” I whispered. “For doubting you.”
We held each other, the tension easing.
“What are we going to do about Rachel?” I asked.
“We’ll set boundaries,” Damian replied. “We’ll make it clear that her behavior is unacceptable.”
The next day, Damian and I discussed Rachel’s behavior with her.
“Rachel, we need to talk,” Damian said.
“What’s up?” Rachel asked.
“Your behavior last night was unacceptable,” I said.
Rachel’s face flushed. “I was just trying to have some fun.”
“Fun?” Damian repeated. “You’re our surrogate, Rachel. Not some woman at a bar.”
Rachel looked down, shamefaced. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“We appreciate that,” I said.
Our relationship with Rachel became strictly professional.
Damian and I emerged stronger, our love fortified our bond became unshakeable.
“I love you,” Damian whispered, holding me close.
“I love you too,” I replied.
We knew that our love could overcome any challenge.
Days turned into weeks, and our focus shifted to Emily’s arrival.
We prepared the nursery, attended parenting classes, and read up on childcare.
Our excitement grew, and our love for each other deepened.
One evening, as we sat in the nursery, Damian took my hand.
“We’re going to be amazing parents,” he said.
I smiled. “We’re going to make mistakes, but we’ll figure it out together.”
Damian grinned. “That’s what I love about us. We face everything together.”
And as we awaited our baby’s arrival, we knew our love would guide us through the ups and downs of parenthood.
*******
Two days later
I walked into the kitchen, ready to start my day, but instead, I found Rachel standing at the counter, sipping coffee.
“Morning,” Rachel said, her tone cheerful.
But I wasn’t having it.
“Rachel, we need to talk,” I said, my voice firm.
“What’s up?” Rachel asked, her brow furrowed.
“You’re doing it again,” I said, frustration boiling over. “You’re disregarding our boundaries.”
Rachel shrugged. “I didn’t mean to overstep.”
But I knew better.
“This is the third time this week,” I pointed out.
Damian walked into the kitchen, sensing the tension.
“Let’s talk about this later,” he suggested.
But I knew we couldn’t keep sweeping these issues under the rug.
“That’s not going to work this time,” I said. “We need to address this now.”
Damian nodded. “Okay, let’s discuss it.”
That evening, Damian called a meeting.
“Rachel, we need to re-establish boundaries,” Damian said firmly.
Rachel nodded, but her eyes flashed defiance.
“I understand,” Rachel said.
But I wasn’t convinced.
“Words are easy, Rachel. Actions are harder,” I said.
Rachel’s expression turned cold.
“I said I’d follow the rules,” Rachel snapped.
“Then do it,” I replied.
Days turned into weeks, and tensions persisted.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that Rachel was intentionally pushing boundaries.
One evening, Damian took my hand.
“I think it’s time Rachel moved into the guest quarters,” he said.
I nodded in agreement.
“It’s for the best,” I said.
“The guest quarters?” Rachel repeated, shock etched on her face.
“Yes,” Damian said. “It’s becoming too uncomfortable here.”
Rachel’s face fell.
“You’re kicking me out?” Rachel asked, her voice trembling.
“Not kicking you out,” Damian clarified. “Just creating space.”
Rachel sighed, knowing resistance was futile.
“When do I move?” Rachel asked.
“Tomorrow,” Damian replied.
The next day, Rachel relocated to the guest quarters.
As I watched her solitary figure, I wondered if we’d made a mistake.
Was this isolation breeding understanding or animosity?
I looked at Damian, seeking reassurance.
“Are we doing the right thing?” I asked.
“We’re protecting our family,” Damian replied.
But doubts lingered.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that Rachel’s resentment would boil over.
“What if she’s not willing to let go?” I asked Damian.
“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Damian said.
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were standing on thin ice.
Only time would tell.