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 co 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, shaless 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 ca 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 fra 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 , 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 before and when I saw her look at like I was finally worth sothing, I let the lie grow even more.

Now, three months in, the prosthetic belly has beco 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 won 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 alive.

It gets much worse when Rebecca throws 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 from across the room. He walks over to and kisses on the cheek. "You look pretty," he says and I hold back tears.

Tell him, my conscience screams at .

Tell him now and finish this charade.

But I don’t do that.

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

I sit down. Rebecca hands 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 sothing first."

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

But instead of accusation, his eyes hold sothing different—a warmth I haven’t seen directed at before. He takes my hand, guiding 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 realize sothing. 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 ?"

He opens the box to reveal a stunning diamond ring—a large erald-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 based on a lie that’s spiraled so far out of control I can barely rember who I am anymore.

"Say yes!" soone shouts from the back.

Matthew looks up at 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 co 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 , a real kiss.

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

~-~

Then cos the wedding day.

My mother fusses at , smoothing wrinkles from my gown, adjusting my veil, telling 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 excitent. "You look stunning!" she says, hugging .

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 lt 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.

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 an?"

"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 like I mattered. And now, now I don’t know how to fix this."

Rebecca just stares at , 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 ssed up."

"ssed 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 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 ? Your best friend!"

My throat tightens. "I am so sorry."

Rebecca shakes her head. "This is so ssed up. But you have to co clean."

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

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