My Landlord's Milky Trap - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
You are reading My Landlord's Milky Trap, Chapter 6: Chapter 6. Read more chapters of My Landlord's Milky Trap.
The days passed like a slow, steady river—calm and unbroken. Margaret came back as promised, her face glowing as she handed me fresh vegetables and farm eggs from her hometown. Her eyes softened with warmth when she looked at me. "Evelyn, I don't know what I'd do without you. Just look at Noah—he's thriving under your care. His cheeks are full of color, and he's put on such healthy weight!"
I ducked my head, a little flustered. "Oh, Margaret, don't say that. All I do is cook for him. Honestly, he's the one who's been looking after me lately!"
We moved around the kitchen, chopping and stirring, laughter filling the air—until Noah burst in, waving a small packet of white pills. "Mom, here's the leftover medicine. I'm giving it back!" His voice was cheerful, careless.
Margaret went rigid. She snatched the pills from his hand, shoving them deep into her pocket before steering him toward the bedroom. Her face was tight, her movements quick—like she was hiding something dangerous.
Noah, oblivious, kept chattering. "Mom, I did everything you told me! Aren't I good?" His voice was bright with pride.
I stood frozen by the kitchen door, staring at the closed bedroom. A sliver of doubt curled in my chest. What was that about? Why would a simple packet of pills make her panic like that?
Life carried on smoothly after that, but now, a quiet question hummed in the back of my mind.
The answer came two months later, during the company's mandatory health checkup.
The doctor studied my results, then motioned me over with a grim expression. "Evelyn Laurent?" I nodded, my stomach twisting. His voice was low but firm. "The ultrasound confirms you're pregnant."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. My vision blurred. "That—that can't be right," I choked out. "Please, check again."
My divorce had happened because, after three years of marriage, I'd never conceived. The whispers had followed me—barren, useless, broken. Then my ex-husband's mistress got pregnant, and I was tossed aside like yesterday's trash. I'd made peace with the fact that motherhood wasn't in the cards for me—not with my irregular cycles, not with the uterine coldness the doctors said made conception nearly impossible.
And yet here was this man, telling me I was five weeks along. The world tilted. How?
I refused to believe it. I took emergency leave and rushed to another hospital for a blood test. When the results came back, I stared at the numbers, numb. There was no denying it.
Whose child was this?
People loved a scandal. By the time I left the clinic, the news of a divorced, single woman's pregnancy had already spread through the factory like wildfire.
I ducked my head, a little flustered. "Oh, Margaret, don't say that. All I do is cook for him. Honestly, he's the one who's been looking after me lately!"
We moved around the kitchen, chopping and stirring, laughter filling the air—until Noah burst in, waving a small packet of white pills. "Mom, here's the leftover medicine. I'm giving it back!" His voice was cheerful, careless.
Margaret went rigid. She snatched the pills from his hand, shoving them deep into her pocket before steering him toward the bedroom. Her face was tight, her movements quick—like she was hiding something dangerous.
Noah, oblivious, kept chattering. "Mom, I did everything you told me! Aren't I good?" His voice was bright with pride.
I stood frozen by the kitchen door, staring at the closed bedroom. A sliver of doubt curled in my chest. What was that about? Why would a simple packet of pills make her panic like that?
Life carried on smoothly after that, but now, a quiet question hummed in the back of my mind.
The answer came two months later, during the company's mandatory health checkup.
The doctor studied my results, then motioned me over with a grim expression. "Evelyn Laurent?" I nodded, my stomach twisting. His voice was low but firm. "The ultrasound confirms you're pregnant."
The words hit like a punch to the gut. My vision blurred. "That—that can't be right," I choked out. "Please, check again."
My divorce had happened because, after three years of marriage, I'd never conceived. The whispers had followed me—barren, useless, broken. Then my ex-husband's mistress got pregnant, and I was tossed aside like yesterday's trash. I'd made peace with the fact that motherhood wasn't in the cards for me—not with my irregular cycles, not with the uterine coldness the doctors said made conception nearly impossible.
And yet here was this man, telling me I was five weeks along. The world tilted. How?
I refused to believe it. I took emergency leave and rushed to another hospital for a blood test. When the results came back, I stared at the numbers, numb. There was no denying it.
Whose child was this?
People loved a scandal. By the time I left the clinic, the news of a divorced, single woman's pregnancy had already spread through the factory like wildfire.
End of My Landlord's Milky Trap Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to My Landlord's Milky Trap book page.