It all started the day James—my husband for eight years—asked me to go with him to his mom Diane’s house for a “family meeting.”
As we drove, I rolled my eyes, already tired before we even got there. James’s family was always dealing with some kind of drama.
“What is it this time?” I muttered. “Did your mom find another scratch on her china and decide I did it?”
James didn’t laugh. He kept his eyes locked on the road and said quietly, “It’s something important, Jess. Just hear them out, okay?”
That made me sit up straighter. If James wasn’t cracking a joke, something really was going on.
When we got there, Diane greeted me with her usual cold, too-long hug, the kind that said she didn’t really want to touch me but thought she had to. She led us into her living room where James’s younger brother, Matt, was already sitting on an armchair, looking nervous.
Then Diane put on her sweetest, fakest voice. “Jessica,” she said, sitting on the edge of the couch like she was about to offer me a cupcake instead of a bombshell. “We have something very special to ask you.”
I glanced at James. He was staring down at his hands like he didn’t want to be there. My stomach started to twist.
Matt cleared his throat, his voice shaky. “Jessica… I’m engaged.”
I blinked. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful. When do we get to meet her?”
Matt and Diane looked at each other like they were passing a secret between their eyes.
“Uh… I’m not sure,” Matt said. “She’s a wildlife photographer. She’s in the Ethiopian Highlands right now, filming Ethiopian wolves. The signal out there is really bad.”
Okay… weird. But sure. Sounds adventurous.
Diane leaned forward, clasping her hands like she was about to start praying. “She has health issues, dear. She desperately wants children, but she can’t carry them herself.”
I froze.
All of a sudden, all three of them were staring at me. My stomach dropped lower.
“We were hoping,” Matt said softly, “that you might consider being a surrogate for us.”
I stared at him, then at James—expecting him to look as shocked as I felt. But he wasn’t. He wasn’t surprised at all. In fact, his face said he’d known this was coming.
“You want me… to carry your baby?” I whispered, like saying it out loud would make it sound less insane.
James squeezed my hand gently. “Think about what it would mean to Matt,” he said. “And the compensation would help us and the kids so much. We could boost their college funds, do the kitchen remodel you’ve been dreaming about…”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“But… your brother’s fiancée,” I said, trying to understand. “Shouldn’t I at least talk to her first? This is huge.”
“She’s totally on board,” Matt jumped in. “We did IVF before she left and froze the embryos. We just need someone to carry the baby.”
“But I haven’t even met her.”
“She’ll be back soon,” Diane said, patting my knee like I was a little kid who needed calming. “You two will get along splendidly.”
They had answers for everything. It was like they’d rehearsed.
I looked at James. He knew all the right pressure points—our kids’ futures, the home I wanted to fix up. All the things that mattered most to me.
And despite the alarm bells going off in my head, I slowly nodded.
“…I’ll do it.”
The next nine months were long and exhausting. There were doctor appointments, nausea that never let up, aching feet, a sore back that made sleeping nearly impossible.
James tried to be helpful—massaging my feet, bringing me snacks, always reminding me how much the money would help us.
But something kept feeling… wrong.
Matt came by often. He brought vitamins, asked how I was doing, even rubbed my shoulder sometimes.
But the woman I was carrying the baby for? She was still just a name.
One night, as I lay in bed struggling to get comfortable, I asked James, “Has Matt’s fiancée called yet?”
“She’s still traveling,” he said without looking at me.
“For nine months? Without even one phone call to the woman carrying her child?”
James rolled over with a sigh. “You’re stressing yourself out, Jess. That’s not good for the baby.”
The baby, I thought. Not me.
As my due date got closer, my anxiety got worse. I called Matt myself.
“When is your fiancée coming back?” I asked. “I’d really like to meet her before I give birth.”
“Soon,” he said. “She’s in Ethiopia again—trying to photograph some rare bird in the Nechisar Plains.”
It felt like every time I asked, she was chasing some different animal across a different corner of the world. Almost like she wasn’t real.
Then the big day came. Labor hit hard and fast. James rushed me to the hospital while I groaned in pain and held onto the dashboard for dear life.
Inside the hospital, he held my hand through the first few contractions.
Then Matt and Diane burst into the room.
I waved my hand weakly. “Out, both of you,” I gritted through my teeth. “This is too personal.”
The nurse checked me and said, “Six centimeters. We’re moving right along.”
Then James’s phone buzzed.
He pulled away from me to read it.
“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Matt’s fiancée is here.”
A minute later, he returned… with her.
The moment I saw her face, my heart stopped.
“Rachel?” I gasped.
It was her. James’s high school girlfriend. The one I made him swear to stay away from after I caught him drunk, scrolling through her pictures in bed six years ago. The one he admitted he’d never gotten over.
Rachel walked in glowing, smiling like she’d just won a prize.
“Jessica!” she said cheerfully. “I can’t thank you enough. I know how hard this must’ve been, but you made our dream come true!”
My skin went cold. My body shook.
I looked at James. “You knew,” I said, my voice trembling. “You knew exactly who she was. And you never told me.”
He shrugged like it didn’t matter. “It wasn’t relevant.”
“Wasn’t relevant?!” I exploded. “You asked me to carry a child for the woman you admitted you never got over! And that’s not relevant?!”
Diane stepped in, her voice sugary again. “Sweetheart, don’t overreact. Rachel wanted a baby, and you were the perfect choice!”
“You’ve already had two children without complications,” she continued. “Besides… Rachel wants to keep her body.”
And just like that, everything clicked.
This wasn’t about family. This wasn’t about helping someone in need.
This was about keeping Rachel’s body perfect. About using mine instead.
“Well, glad to know I make a great broodmare,” I snapped.
Rachel’s face turned pink. “I didn’t mean—”
“Quiet!” I shouted as another contraction gripped me. “Liars. Manipulative little—”
“Stop being so dramatic,” James groaned.
“Jessica, it’s done. The baby’s almost here. Just let it go.”
But I wasn’t done.
I turned to the nurse. “I need a moment alone with my husband.”
The nurse quickly pushed everyone out, leaving just James and me in the room.
I stared at him, breathing hard through the pain.
“We’re done,” I said coldly.
James blinked. “What?”
“This marriage. Us. You tricked me into being an incubator for her. You crossed a line.”
James laughed. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
“Am I?” I said calmly. “Then you won’t mind if I take everything I’m entitled to in the divorce.”
He stopped laughing. His face turned pale.
“Jessica—” he started.
“No.” I cut him off. “You took away my choice. Now I’m taking back my life.”
I gave birth alone. No James. No Diane. No Rachel.
The pain was unbearable, but I pushed through every second of it like a warrior.
When the baby finally cried, the nurse handed her to me for just a moment. She was tiny, pink, and innocent.
But I handed her back gently.
“This baby isn’t mine to keep,” I said softly.
Within a week, I had a lawyer. I filed for divorce. Got full custody of my kids. And I made sure James felt every consequence of his lies.
He tried everything—flowers, voicemails, even showed up at my parents’ place.
“Please, Jessica,” he begged, eyes red. “It was a mistake. I should’ve told you.”
I looked him straight in the eyes. “A mistake is forgetting our anniversary. This was a calculated betrayal.”
Three months later, I sat across from my lawyer as she slid the final divorce papers to me.
“He’s agreed to all the terms,” she said. “The house, the money, primary custody. You won, Jessica.”
I signed with a steady hand. “I didn’t win. I just stopped losing.”
As I walked out into the cool fall air, my phone buzzed.
A text from James.
“Rachel had the baby christened yesterday. They want you to know they’re grateful.”
I deleted the message without replying.
Rachel got her perfect body. Her perfect baby. Matt got his family. James got what he deserved.
And me?
I got something so much better.
Freedom.