It was meant to be a peaceful escape. Just the two of us, surrounded by wide open fields, soaking in the calm before our baby arrived. He said he wanted to take me back to where he grew up—to the place, he said, that made him the man I fell in love with.
I thought it was the sweetest idea.
So when he wrapped his arms around me in the pasture and kissed my cheek, the cows lazily wandering nearby, I thought, Yes. This is perfect.
But then I noticed his smile. It didn’t quite touch his eyes.
He spoke about the farm like it was sacred—his personal escape, a haven where the rest of the world faded away. His voice was soft, steady. But there was a tightness underneath, something he wasn’t saying. I brushed it off. I didn’t want to spoil what was supposed to be a beautiful moment—the beginning of a new chapter for us, for our growing family.
Still, the unease started the moment we turned onto the long gravel drive. The house wasn’t what I expected. Bigger, more polished. Less rustic charm, more… estate. And there were people. A lot of them. Not just family, but strangers too—laughing, drinking, gathering in little groups like it was a full-on event.
When he saw the look on my face, he squeezed my hand. “It’s just a small family gathering,” he said gently. “Everyone’s really excited to meet you—and the baby. You’ll love them.”
I nodded and smiled, but my stomach was tight. As we climbed the steps to the porch, the scent of barbecue and fresh pies drifted out, triggering memories of the loud, warm family cookouts from my own childhood. But this felt… different.
Inside, the house buzzed with chatter, laughter, the clink of glasses. It wasn’t until we stepped into the living room that the shift became undeniable. There, in a large chair, sat his mother—the woman I’d heard countless stories about but never actually met. She was in the middle of a lively conversation but paused when she saw us.
For a moment, her expression changed—something sharp flashing behind her eyes before she smiled. The kind of smile that’s a little too perfect, a little too rehearsed.
“Welcome, sweetheart. We’ve heard so much about you,” she said, her tone honeyed. “You’re even more stunning than he let on.”
I gave her a polite smile, murmured thanks, but there was something in her gaze—something that made my skin prickle. It wasn’t warmth. It was scrutiny. Like she wasn’t welcoming me… she was assessing me.
And I couldn’t help but wonder what I had just stepped into.