Chapter 38

Olivia

As I stumbled out of the bathroom, my head was still spinning from the overwhelming wave of nausea caused by the pungent smell and horrid taste of Maria’s soup.

At least it’s over, I thought to myself as I clutched my stomach. She’ll go home now.

I just wanted to go up to my room and lie down on my bed for the rest of the day after that whole ordeal. But when I walked out into the hallway and met Maria there with yet another bowl of steaming hot soup in her hands, I felt my stomach drop.

“There you are,” she said, sounding annoyed and completely oblivious to my obvious sickness. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

I blinked, completely taken aback by her brusque tone. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Ford,” I said, feeling ill already just from being in the vicinity of the wretched soup. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“Hm.” Maria eyed me up and down with a disbelieving look on her face, then thrust the bowl of soup closer to me. I nearly gagged just from that, and instantly felt my eyes begin to water. “Here. Have another bowl.”

I shook my head and took a step back. “I-I really can’t,” I said, forcing a weak smile. “It was delicious. It really was. But I think I’m having—”

“Morning sickness.” Maria finished for me.

Holding the bowl of soup in one hand, she roughly grabbed my arm with the other and unceremoniously dragged me back to the kitchen, where she practically shoved me back into the chair where I was first accosted by the bowl of disgusting pond water that she called ‘soup’.

“Another bowl will fix you right up,” she said, placing the horrid bowl in front of me before she scurried back over to the stove. “And I’ve made you some tea that will help as well.”

Before I could even say a word, a cup of equally pungent tea was placed in front of me. The steam alone coming off of the two things made me feel sick and sweaty.

I swallowed nervously, glancing at the tea and then back at her. “Thank you, Mrs. Ford, but… I really can’t. The smell is making me queasy.”

Maria’s face hardened. “Nonsense,” she replied firmly. “You’re carrying my grandchild. It’s important for the surrogate to be in good health. I’ve had all of these herbs and recipes prepared by my nutritionist, and I assure you that she knows what she’s doing.”

I felt my blood run cold at that word.

Surrogate.

The word echoed in my mind and caught me off guard. I wasn’t a surrogate… In fact, neither Nathan nor I ever even implied that I was a surrogate.

Maybe it was just a slip of the tongue, I thought to myself.

I forced another weak smile. “I really do appreciate all of the effort you’ve taken, but I really don’t feel well at all,” I said, just trying to relieve tension in the hopes that she would just drop it and let me go to bed. “But I think I should listen to my body, and right now, I think it’s best if I avoid throwing up again.”

“Again?” Maria asked, her face turning bright red as she began to fume. “You mean to tell me that you just threw up that whole bowl of perfectly good soup?”

Suddenly, I felt myself become even more sick, although now it was from my nerves and the smell of the soup and the tea had nothing to do with it.

“I-I’m sorry,” I stammered, wringing my hands in my lap as I looked up at her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect—”

Maria’s eyes narrowed. Her face betrayed her feelings of deep-seated hatred for me, but she seemed to compose herself, and she cracked a wry smile.

“Well then,” she huffed, taking the soup out from under my nose and marching over to the trash can. “I suppose if you don’t appreciate my help, then I won’t bother.”

“No!” I stood suddenly, feeling awful. Maria froze and slowly turned to face me. I saw a flicker of something indescribably flash through her eyes as we looked at each other, and I sat back down, swallowing hard. “I’ll eat it,” I said quietly.

Maria looked pleased. She came back over and placed the bowl back in front of me.

“Eat it all, and don’t forget to drink your tea,” she said with a terse smirk. “Just remember… I know what’s best for my grandchild. And as the surrogate, you must keep in mind that it’s not entirely up to you.”

There was that word again: surrogate.

Clearly, Nathan’s mother had a particular idea of me.

But I wasn’t in any mood to fight it, and instead I repeated the same routine from the first bowl of soup: I shoveled it down my throat as quickly as I could manage just to get it over with, then held my breath as I chugged the cup of putrid tea, not caring if I burnt the hell out of my tongue.

When I was finally finished, Maria looked pleased.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ford,” I lied, standing as I did my best to shove down the feelings of another wave of nausea bubbling up at the back of my throat. “It was delicious. I actually feel much better now.”

“Good.” Maria smiled — or, rather, her mouth smiled, but her eyes stayed cold and indifferent. “I’ll be back tomorrow with more.”

Tomorrow? I thought to myself.

Every fiber of my being started to scream, but I managed to force a smile as I showed Maria to the door.

When Maria finally left, I couldn't hold it in any longer. I sprinted to the bathroom once again and barely made it to the toilet before I emptied the contents of my stomach for the second time that morning.

As I lay on the cool tiles, my body trembling and my temples throbbing, a wave of despair washed over me. Why did it feel like everyone hated my pregnancy?

First there were the nasty comments made by the other patients in the doctor’s office, followed by Angela’s horrible treatment.

Then, there was Maria’s insistence on controlling what I consumed, her casual use of the word ‘surrogate’ as if that was all I was to her — it all contributed to a growing sense of isolation and unease inside of me.

I wiped away the tears that streamed down my face, willing myself to be strong.

For the rest of the day, I could only lie in my bed and doze on and off. Every muscle I moved made me feel as though I would retch again, and so I laid comatose.

It wasn’t until much later, when I heard my bedroom door creak, that I finally opened my eyes and saw Nathan looking at me through the crack.