Chapter 1: The Ex on the Bed
"WHY IS YOUR EX-BOYFRIEND SITTING ON OUR BED?""
My voice thundered through the bedroom as I stood in the doorway, staring at a scene that made my blood run cold.
Jordan.
My wife's ex-boyfriend.
Sitting on the very bed where Nia and I had slept together every night for the past four years.
And my wife was standing right beside him.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Jordan looked up at me with an expression somewhere between surprise and guilt. Nia's face went pale.
Then she rushed forward.
"Marcus, calm down!""
I stared at her.
"Calm down?""
"Please, you're making this worse than it is.""
I pointed toward the bed.
"Your ex-boyfriend is sitting in our bedroom, Nia! How exactly am I supposed to react?""
She stepped between us.
"We were only talking.""
I let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh.
"Talking? In our bedroom?""
"Marcus, you're overreacting.""
That word nearly pushed me over the edge.
Overreacting.
As if I had walked into the room and discovered nothing more suspicious than two old friends discussing the weather.
I looked past her.
Jordan was sitting on the edge of our black upholstered bed. His black hoodie was wrinkled, his gray sweatpants creased, and his shoes were resting on the expensive rug Nia had insisted we buy after our wedding.
Everything about his presence felt like a violation.
"Get off my bed," I said.
Jordan stood slowly.
"Man, there's no reason to get aggressive.""
I took a step forward.
"Don't tell me how to behave in my own home.""
Nia immediately raised her hands.
"Marcus, stop!""
"Stop what? Asking why another man is in our bedroom?""
Jordan exhaled.
"Look, she called me. I didn't just show up.""
The room fell silent.
I turned toward Nia.
"You invited him here?""
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
"Answer me.""
"Yes, I called him.""
I stared at her.
For a moment, the anger disappeared beneath something much worse.
Disappointment.
Because this wasn't the first time Jordan had caused problems in our marriage.
Two years earlier, I had discovered that Nia was secretly exchanging messages with him.
I still remembered that night.
I had been sitting at our kitchen island, eating leftover Chinese food, when her phone lit up beside her glass.
Jordan: I still think about us sometimes.
Nia: Sometimes I wonder what would've happened if things had been different.
I read the messages three times.
Then I confronted her.
She cried. She apologized. She told me she had been foolish and that the conversation meant nothing.
I asked her to cut contact with him.
She promised.
And because I loved my wife, I chose to believe her.
We agreed that Jordan would no longer have a place in our marriage.
Now he was standing in our bedroom.
"After everything we agreed on," I whispered, "you brought him into our home?""
Nia's expression hardened.
"I don't need your permission to talk to someone.""
"I'm not trying to control you. I'm asking why you invited a man who openly tried to destroy our marriage into the most private room in our house.""
She looked toward Jordan.
He avoided her eyes.
"Why are you looking at him?"" I demanded.
Jordan took a step toward the doorway.
"Maybe I should go.""
"That's the first intelligent thing you've said.""
Nia turned sharply.
"Marcus!""
"No. I'm done being made to feel like the unreasonable one every time you cross a boundary. I worked twelve hours today.
I came home expecting to see my wife. Instead, I found her ex-boyfriend sitting on our bed.""
Nia's eyes filled with tears.
"Nothing happened.""
"Maybe nothing physical happened. But you knew exactly how this would hurt me.""
I pointed toward the hallway.
"Leave. Both of you.""
Her head snapped up.
"Marcus, this is my home too!""
"I'm telling you I need space. We can discuss arrangements after we've both calmed down.""
Then Jordan spoke.
"Marcus.""
I turned toward him.
The defensive expression was gone. Now he looked genuinely uncomfortable.
"She didn't call me here just to talk," Jordan said.
Nia spun around.
"Jordan, STOP!""
My heart slammed against my ribs.
Jordan looked at her.
"Nia, he deserves to know.""
"Don't you dare!""
I stepped closer.
"Jordan. Why are you here?""
Nia grabbed his arm.
"Don't say another word!""
Jordan gently pulled free.
Then he reached into the pocket of his hoodie.
What he pulled out was a small white envelope.
He placed it on our bed.
"I came because Nia told me you were going to find out eventually," he said.
I looked at the envelope.
My name was written across the front.
MARCUS REED.
My stomach tightened.
"What is this?""
Nia shook her head violently.
"Marcus, please. Just give me a chance to explain.""
I picked up the envelope.
Inside was a photograph.
It showed Nia standing outside a hospital, holding a newborn baby.
My wife.
Holding a child I had never seen before.
I turned the photograph over.
There was a date written on the back.
Four years earlier.
The same year we got married.
And beneath the date were six words that made my entire world stop.
Ask Nia who the father is.
I slowly lifted my eyes.
Jordan was staring at me.
Nia was crying.
And for the first time in four years, I looked at my wife and wondered whether I had ever truly known her.
"Who's the father?"" I asked.
She covered her mouth.
Jordan answered.
"That's why I came here, Marcus.""
May you like
Then he said something I never expected.
"Because the baby isn't mine.""
