PART 2: WHAT HID BENEATH THE BLANKET
I stared at my mother’s message until the screen went dark.
If you want to know what your wife is hiding, come home early tomorrow.
I called her right away.
“What exactly are you accusing Megan of?”
“I’m not accusing anyone,” she replied. “I’m telling you to pay attention.”
“Then explain what you know.”
“You’ll understand when you see it yourself.”
Before I could demand another answer, she hung up.
I barely slept that night. Megan lay beside me beneath her blue blanket, now and then shifting with a small, pained sound. Twice, I reached toward her, but both times she stiffened before my hand touched her.
By morning, I was terrified that something had happened to our daughter.
At work, I phoned Megan’s obstetrician, Dr. Priya Patel. Her office couldn’t discuss Megan’s medical information without permission, but the nurse advised me to push for an immediate evaluation if she was in severe pain or having trouble walking.
I promised I would.
Shortly after noon, a transformer failure knocked out the store’s refrigeration system. My manager sent several employees home while technicians worked on repairs.
I texted Megan that I was coming early.
She didn’t reply.
I stopped at a deli and picked up tomato soup and grilled cheese, hoping her favorite lunch might coax her into eating.
When I opened our apartment door, the silence scared me.
The curtains were closed. Her untouched vitamins sat on the kitchen counter, and yesterday’s glass of lemon water stood beside them.
“Megan?”
I found her lying on her side, facing the bedroom wall.
Tears had soaked the edge of her pillow.
I sat down carefully beside her.
“Sweetheart, we need to talk.”
“I’m tired, Jake.”
“You’ve barely eaten in days. You won’t let me touch your legs, and you cry whenever you think I’m asleep.”
She closed her eyes.
“Please don’t start.”
“Did someone hurt you?”
Her breath caught.
Then she shook her head.
“Are you sure?”
“Jake, please.”
I looked at the blanket wrapped tightly around her lower body.
“What’s underneath there?”
She pulled it closer.
“Nothing.”
“Megan, I’m scared. Whatever is happening, we need help.”
Her voice cracked.
“If you see it, everything will fall apart.”
I didn’t understand what she meant, but I knew she was afraid.
I stood and reached for my phone.
“I’m calling Dr. Patel.”
“No hospital!”
The urgency in her voice stopped me.
Before I could answer, someone knocked at our front door.
My mother stood outside, holding a casserole dish and a bag of dinner rolls.
“Surprise,” she said brightly.
“How did you know I was home?”
“I was nearby.”
She walked past me into the kitchen.
“Is Megan still hiding in bed?”
I turned to face her.
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Mom set the food on the counter.
“Because my son deserves to know what’s happening in his own marriage.”
Then Megan appeared in the bedroom doorway.
She leaned against the frame, the blue blanket wrapped around her waist and legs.
The moment she saw my mother, the color drained from her face.
“Why is she here?” Megan whispered.
“I brought dinner,” Mom replied.
“Please leave.”
My mother stiffened.
“That’s a lovely way to speak to someone who’s helping you.”
“Mom,” I said, “she asked you to leave.”
Instead, Mom stepped toward Megan.
“What are you so desperate to hide under that blanket?”
Megan backed away.
“Don’t come near me.”
My mother’s expression hardened.
“Jake, are you finally seeing what I’ve been telling you?”
I looked from one woman to the other.
Megan was shaking so badly she could barely stand.
I approached her slowly.
“Sweetheart, let me help you sit down.”
She grabbed my arm, then winced when the blanket shifted around her ankles.
I saw the pain cross her face.
“Megan, are your legs injured?”
She began to cry.
“Please don’t look.”
I should have stopped there. I should have asked permission and waited until she felt safe.
Instead, frightened by her condition and worn down by weeks of uncertainty, I reached for the edge of the blanket.
“Jake, no!”
I pulled it back.
Dark bruises ringed both ankles. One knee was swollen, a healing cut marked her lower leg, and a reddish burn covered part of her calf.
My hands went cold.
“Megan, who did this?”
She covered her face.
Behind me, my mother spoke almost immediately.
“Pregnant women are clumsy. She probably fell again.”
I turned toward her.
“Again?”
Mom blinked.
“What?”
“How do you know she fell before?”
For the first time, my mother seemed unable to find an answer.
Then Megan whispered from behind me.
“Jake, she told me she’d take our baby away if I ever showed you.”
