Contract Marriage: I Will Never Love You-Chapter 76: Come Clean

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Sarah

I stand in front of the full-length mirror in my bedroom, staring at my fake pregnant belly.

Every day, I told myself I’d come clean. I will tell Matthew, my parents, and then Rebecca.

But then, I chicken out.

I knew I couldn’t fake a baby bump. Not with my mother’s form-fitting wedding dress alterations scheduled for tomorrow.

So, I stoop even lower and buy a prosthetic belly.

They were expensive, absurdly so, but I didn’t hesitate. I selected the "16-week" model and paid for overnight shipping.

Because I am a horrible, shameless person.

When the package arrived the next day, I tore it open with trembling fingers. The prosthetic belly lay nestled in tissue paper, flesh-colored and eerily realistic. It came with a special adhesive and detailed instructions for application.

I stripped down to my underwear and carefully followed each step. When I looked in the mirror, I gasped. My slender frame was curved outward in a perfect, round bump. I ran my hands over it, marveling at how real it felt. And after a few weeks, it was as if I started to believe my own lie.

It was perfect. Too perfect. No one would question this.

The next day, I wore it to my dress fitting.

No one figured it out.

The seamstress fawned over me, running her hands over the bodice of my gown with an approving smile.

"Such a lovely little bump," she had gushed.

Even my mother looked happy. She never paid much attention to me before and when I saw her look at me like I was finally worth something, I let the lie grow even more.

Now, three months in, the prosthetic belly has become part of my daily routine. I wake up, shower, apply the adhesive, and smooth it into place.

I practice how I move, how I sit, how I stand. I rest a hand on my belly when I talk, just like real pregnant women do.

I know how much weight I should be gaining. I know which symptoms to fake. Nausea? Easy. Just grimace and excuse myself. Fatigue? Perfect excuse to avoid family gatherings. I have it down to a science. But the guilt is eating me alive.

It gets much worse when Rebecca throws me a baby shower.

Rebecca went all out, decorating the venue with pastel-colored balloons, an elaborate dessert table, and even a ridiculous baby-shaped cake.

"Surprise!" she screams as I step into the room, surrounded by friends, family, and people I barely recognize.

My stomach churns.

"Do you love it?" Rebecca asks, grabbing my hands excitedly.

I nod, because what else can I do?

I see Matthew watching me from across the room. He walks over to me and kisses me on the cheek. "You look pretty," he says and I hold back tears.

Tell him, my conscience screams at me.

Tell him now and finish this charade.

But I don’t do that.

"Time for gifts!" Rebecca announces, clapping her hands together.

I sit down. Rebecca hands me gift after gift.

A tiny blue onesie, a plush bunny, a handmade blanket.

Oh god...I’m going to be sick.

I decided to tell Matthew the truth. I can’t keep dragging this out anymore. This has gone way too far. "M-Matthew, can I talk to you?" I lean over and whisper in his ear.

Matthew stands up, his face suddenly serious. "Actually," he says, loud enough for everyone to hear, "I’d like to say something first."

My heart stops. Is he going to expose me? Did he somehow figure out my lie?

But instead of accusation, his eyes hold something different—a warmth I haven’t seen directed at me before. He takes my hand, guiding me to stand.

"I know I haven’t been very nice to you," he says with a nervous laugh that ripples through the crowd. "But I want to change it."

I watch in horror as he lowers himself to one knee, still holding my hand.

"Sarah Wilson," he says, his voice steady and sure, "I know this isn’t how either of us planned our lives to go. But over these past months, watching you carry our child, it made me realize something. I want this to be more than just an obligation," he continues, pulling out a small velvet box. "I want to be your husband, your partner, and support you in every way possible. So before the wedding, I want to do this right. Will you marry me?"

He opens the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring—a large emerald-cut stone flanked by smaller diamonds.

The room erupts in cheers and applause and I’m frozen, staring down at this man who’s proposing to me based on a lie that’s spiraled so far out of control I can barely remember who I am anymore.

"Say yes!" someone shouts from the back.

Matthew looks up at me when I don’t say anything. "Sarah?"

I open my mouth to confess, to end this madness once and for all. The truth burns in my throat, desperate to escape.

But the words that come out are: "Yes. Of course, yes."

Matthew slides the ring onto my finger. It feels heavy on my finger as if weighted by my lies. He stands and kisses me, a real kiss.

I finally got what I wanted. Matthew is willingly marrying me.

~-~

Then comes the wedding day.

My mother fusses at me, smoothing wrinkles from my gown, adjusting my veil, telling me how she wished I was not as pale.

I pay no attention to her insults because my mind is filled with anxiety.I can’t stop shaking.

The prosthetic belly is secure beneath my wedding dress, held in place with extra adhesive. I tested it twice, triple-checked every detail. No one can know.

Rebecca bursts into the bridal suite, squealing with excitement. "You look stunning!" she says, hugging me.

I force a smile. "Thank you."

She studies my face. "You okay? You look a little pale."

"I’m just nervous," I lie.

She grins. "Cold feet? Don’t worry. Once you see Matthew waiting for you at the altar, it’ll all melt away."

I doubt that.

"I will be at the alter. Make sure to keep your shoulders straight when you walk down. I will send your Dad now," Mom says before leaving.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

I can’t do this.

I can’t.

I grab the edge of the vanity, breathing heavily.

"Sarah? What’s wrong? Are you okay?" Rebecca asks.

I shake my head vigorously. "No, I am not okay," I say, bursting into tears. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Rebecca’s smile falters. "Hey, hey, what’s wrong?" She grips my shoulders. "Is it nerves? Do you need water? Should I get your mom?"

"No," I gasp, shaking my head. "I can’t...I can’t do this."

Her eyes widen. "What do you mean?"

"I’ve been lying," I whisper, the words finally clawing their way out of my throat.

She blinks, confused. "Lying about what?"

I squeeze my eyes shut. "I’m not pregnant."

Silence.

A heavy, suffocating silence.

Then Rebecca lets out a small, bewildered laugh. "Wait... what?"

I choke on a sob. "I faked the whole thing. I bought a prosthetic belly and learned how to act pregnant. I made it all up." My breath shudders. "I wanted Matthew to stay. I wanted my mom to look at me like I mattered. And now, now I don’t know how to fix this."

Rebecca just stares at me, her mouth slightly open. Then, she exhales sharply and runs a hand through her hair. "Oh my God, Sarah."

"I know," I whisper. "I know I messed up."

"Messed up?" Her voice rises. "Sarah, you told the biggest lie imaginable. You let Matthew propose to you! You let us throw you a freaking baby shower! How—" She stops, inhaling deeply. "Does anyone else know?"

I shake my head.

She lets out another sharp breath. "Okay. You need to tell Matthew. Now."

I clutch the fabric of my wedding dress. "If I tell him, I’ll lose him."

Rebecca’s expression hardens. "Sarah, you never had him."

The words slam into me like a brick wall.

She steps back, rubbing her temples. "I can’t believe this," she mutters. "God, Sarah, I would’ve helped you. How could you lie to me? Your best friend!"

My throat tightens. "I am so sorry."

Rebecca shakes her head. "This is so messed up. But you have to come clean."

I nod, wiping my eyes. "But..."

Rebecca holds my gaze. "Tell him, or I will."