Rejected by my Husband novel Chapter 14

Karline’s POV

Nine months.

That’s how long I lived like a ghost in my own home.

Reid was there, but he wasn’t with me. His presence was cold, calculated, like a stranger who shared the same roof. He never raised his voice, never lashed out, but his silence was louder than any cruelty.

Every morning, I would wake up clutching my stomach, praying today might be different. Maybe he’d ask if I slept well, maybe he’d touch my belly, maybe he’d smile even faintly. But all I’d get was his back as he buttoned his shirt, his hand reaching for his tie, his voice low and detached.

“Breakfast is on the table?”

I’d nod, holding back tears. “Yes, Reid.”

He’d leave without even looking at me, the sound of the door closing echoing through the emptiness of my chest.

At night, it was the same. He slept in the guest bedroom. I would wait, sometimes preparing his favorite dishes, hoping he’d at least sit with me for dinner. Sometimes he came late, too late to eat. Sometimes he came early but didn’t touch the food.

Once, I tried to make conversation. “The baby kicked today,” I whispered, smiling nervously. “Would you like to feel?”

He froze, his eyes lingering on my belly for a brief moment before he shook his head. “I’m busy.”

Busy. Always busy.

Natalie’s visits became more frequent, and though she smiled politely in front of me, I saw the triumph in her eyes. Sometimes she even dared to linger in the hallway, whispering with Reid in low tones I couldn’t hear. And no matter how much I told myself not to believe the worst, doubt gnawed at me.

But every night, I spoke to my unborn child.

“It’s just us, sweetheart,” I whispered, stroking my stomach. “Daddy doesn’t trust Mommy right now… but one day, he’ll see. One day, he’ll hold you and realize you’ve been his all along. And maybe then, maybe, he’ll remember how much he loved me."

When my cravings came, the maids fulfilled them ordered by Reid himself. When my back ached or my ankles swelled, it was the maids who fussed over me. He never once placed his hand on me, never once showed softness.

But he never left, either. That was my cruel hope. He stayed. Coldly and very distant. But he stayed.

One evening, when the rain poured outside and I was rocking slowly in the nursery chair, I heard his footsteps by the door. He stood there for a moment, watching me, but didn’t come in.

“Reid,” I whispered into the dim room, my voice trembling. “Do you hate me this much?”

He didn’t answer. He only walked away.

And so the months dragged on. A routine of silence, suspicion, and heartbreak.

But I clung to one thing: the truth.

The DNA test would come. The baby would be born. And when the world saw the truth, Reid would have no choice but to face what he had done to me, what he had done to us.

And I swore, as I pressed my hand over my swollen belly, that on that day… Reid would regret every cold night, every unanswered question, every silent rejection he had thrown at me.

****

The sharpest pain I had ever felt in my life ripped through me like fire in my veins. I stumbled against the corner of the dining table, clutching my stomach, gasping for air.

My legs shook violently. “No… no, not now… Reid… where are you?”

I screamed as my water broke, soaking the marble floor beneath me. Panic consumed me as two maids rushed into the room.

“Madam! Madam, what happened?” one of them cried, her face pale.

“My water… it.. it broke. Call Reid!” I sobbed, reaching for my phone with trembling fingers.

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