Pregnant With My Brother's Child

A week before our wedding, Corinne started getting sick at the mere smell of food. I thought it was just pre-wedding jitters, the overwhelming pressure of everything coming together. When I mentioned it to my younger brother, Chase, he looked down at the ginger broth on the dining table and let out a cold, sharp laugh. "Some women spend years preaching about being child-free, but deep down, they're dying to trap you," he said, tapping his fingers against the wood. "I bet she got knocked up behind your back. Just wait—she'll pin it on you sooner or later." I pushed a bowl toward him, the one without scallions, just the way he liked it. "Stop talking nonsense. Your future sister-in-law isn't like that." "Oh, really? What if the guy who did it was standing right in front of you, bold as day, and you were still smiling, offering him a bowl of soup?" He looked at me with an intense, fiery indignation, like a fiercely loyal dog defending its owner. I only shook my head and smiled. Chase was reckless, loud, and lived on the edge; Corinne was traditional, composed, and quiet. They had always rubbed each other the wrong way, trading venomous barbs every time they were in the same room. I had long since grown used to acting as the buffer between them. Three days later, I took off early from the office to surprise Corinne and finish decorating our new condo. When I reached the hallway, the front door was left slightly ajar. From inside came the all-too-familiar sound of their bickering, only this time, it was laced with heavy, breathless gasps. "You're going to be a father and you're still out doing illegal street races?" Corinne’s voice held a teasing, breathless threat. "Keep pushing it, and I’ll buy a set of handcuffs and chain you to the headboard." Chase didn’t back down. I heard his low, cocky laugh, followed by the rhythmic, deliberate creak of the mattress. "Instead of worrying about me, Corinne, maybe worry about yourself. You're carrying my kid, while your sweet, devoted fiancé thinks you're just stressed out about the wedding. He's practically dying of worry for you." The satin ribbon and the cardstock banner in my hands slipped through my numb fingers, floating silently to the floor. I stood frozen in the doorway, my mind a blank, hollow void. It turned out that every sharp word, every venomous glare they had exchanged over the years, had only been a thin veil to disguise their obsession. The girl who had once promised to love me until her hair turned white was gone. She had died right here, in this room, at this exact moment. … I stood in the doorway for what felt like an eternity before my feet finally moved. When I walked in, their tangled, naked bodies were laid bare before my eyes. "How... how far along is it?" At the sound of my voice, both of them whipped their heads around. Panic shattered Corinne's usual composure. She scrambled off the bed, hastily pulling her dress over her shoulders, nearly slipping on a discarded foil wrapper on the hardwood floor. "Eric... what are you doing here right now?" The amber glow of the bedside sconce cast warm light across the room. It illuminated the framed engagement portrait hanging on the wall—and the fresh, angry red scratch marks trailing down Chase's chest. Chase curled into the corner of the headboard. Without thinking, I picked up the silk throw blanket from the floor and gently tossed it over him. "I came to finish setting up the place," I said, the words tasting like ash. "But it looks like... I have terrible timing." A bitter, humorless smile touched my lips as I looked down. This was the first time in five years I had ever left work early. All for a wedding I had spent months dreaming about. On the drive over, my chest had been bursting with excitement, my mind racing through every detail. Where should the floral arrangements go? Which champagne flutes should we use for the toast? I had even remembered that Chase was building his career as a fashion influencer, so I had custom-ordered three of the most expensive designer tuxedos for him, just so he’d look incredible in the photos. And this was the surprise the two people I loved most had prepared for me. A phantom fist seemed to clamp around my heart, squeezing until the air rushed out of my lungs. My chest heaved. I spun around to bolt from the room, but my elbow caught the edge of the nightstand, sending a glass vase crashing to the floor. The sound of shattering glass was deafening. "Eric! Your hand—you’re bleeding!" Seeing the red pooling on the floor, Corinne rushed forward and seized my wrist. I violently jerked my arm back. "Don't touch me." "I've taken care of you for six years! If I don't look after you, who will?" She tightened her grip, her eyes brimming with a frantic, desperate concern that looked so much like love. Once upon a time, just so I could sleep ten minutes longer each morning, she had rented an apartment closer to my office and cooked breakfast for me every day. The fridge was always stocked with my favorite drinks, my shirts were always pressed, and my phone was always plugged in before I woke up. Everyone called her the dream partner. How could someone who built a life for me turn into this? While I stood frozen, Corinne had already knelt down, carefully picking the glass shards from my skin. Seeing me flinch, her gaze softened with unmistakable heartache. "I'm sorry, Eric. It’s nothing, really. Chase and I... we were just messing around." "You know how reckless he is. He's just a kid. I can’t stand him half the time." I looked down at this gentle, attentive woman, and a wave of pure horror washed over me. She was pregnant with someone else's child, and to her, it was just "messing around." And that someone was my own brother. A desolate chill settled into my bones. Before I could speak, Chase stepped out of the bedroom. He had slipped on the Italian silk shirt I had bought him, leaning lazily against the doorframe. The cuff rode up, revealing a vivid, purple bite mark on his wrist—proof of just how entirely lost in him Corinne had been moments ago. "Is that so, Corinne?" Chase smirked, looking directly at me with blatant mockery. "Funny, because yesterday you told me that even though you never wanted kids, the thought of having mine actually made you change your mind." He tilted his head, his eyes glittering with malice. "Hey, Eric, you're the smart one. Why don't you break it down for me? Does she love me, or does she hate me?" Looking at the younger brother I had raised, protected, and poured everything into, my entire body began to shake. My fists clutched so tightly my nails bit into my palms. Corinne's face darkened instantly. She grabbed Chase's arm, shoving him toward the front door. "Get out of here. Stop pushing him!" "I'm just telling the truth!" Chase sneered as the door slammed shut between them. The condo fell into a suffocating silence, so thick I could hear the unsteady cadence of our breathing. But the quiet weighed heavier than any screaming match ever could. "Babe, weren't you setting up the decorations?" Corinne forced a soft, casual smile, picking up a box from the entryway. "Let me help you bring the rest inside." She walked toward the bedroom. I watched her with hollow eyes, took a slow step forward, reached out, and pulled the bedroom door shut. I turned the deadbolt. Then, I pulled the key from the lock. "Eric! What are you doing?!" "That's your brother! I'm carrying his baby! Don't you dare lay a hand on him!" Her manufactured calm vanished into thin air. She pounded against the heavy wood, her screams turning shrill and frantic. Without a word, I turned and walked out of the condo. I took two steps down the hall and knocked on the door of unit 402. The door swung open almost immediately. "Oh, hey, big brother. Done talking already?" Chase stood there, slipping easily into his innocent, boyish persona, holding the insulated thermos of ginger broth I had packed for Corinne this morning. I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "How could you do this to me?" Chase let out a laugh, nearly spilling his soup. "Come on, Eric. You've always shared everything with me. What's the big deal if I wanted a taste of your woman?" He wiped a drop of broth from his lip and shrugged. "Besides, if you really want someone to blame, blame yourself." I stared at him, my brow furrowing in disbelief. "Blame myself?" "Of course." He padded across the hardwood in the designer slippers I had bought him for his birthday, walking casually over to the kitchen island. He picked up his phone, tapped the screen, and tossed it onto the counter toward me. "Ever since we were kids, you told me everything. The new gadgets you bought, how late you worked at the office, every little weird thing that happened to you." He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing like a fox. "I never cared about any of it. Except Corinne." "You always talked about how she solved every problem for you, how she held down your entire life, how she was the most perfect, untouchable woman in the world. You swore she’d never betray you." "I wanted to see if that was true. So I dressed up, played the bad boy, gave her a little attention, and what do you know? She folded instantly." He hoisted himself onto the counter, swinging his legs with an angelic, remorseless smile. "Oh, by the way—remember your birthday last month? You fell asleep on the couch after dinner. The frame didn't break because the wood was old. We broke it while you were sleeping in the other room." The color drained completely from my face. This was my brother. The boy I had protected with my life. When we were kids, he couldn't sleep unless I held his hand. In high school, when he was obsessed with vintage records, I scoured every thrift shop in the city to find rare vinyl for him. When he was a senior and casually mentioned he liked his classmate’s limited-edition sneakers, I skipped an entire night of study sessions to camp outside the store in the freezing rain. He used to tell me I was the best brother in the world, that he'd always have my back. And the first thing he did when he grew up was steal the woman I was going to marry. Trembling from head to toe, I grabbed his collar, my vision blurring with rage. "We're going to our parents. Right now. Let's see how smug you are when you have to look them in the eye!" A low, mocking chuckle slipped from his throat. "Go to Mom and Dad? Oh, Eric... they already know." He tilted his head, watching me like a cruel child pulling the wings off an insect. "Where do you think I got the down payment for the condo right next door to yours?" "They gave me the entire wedding trust fund Corinne’s family set aside for you." My body froze solid. The blood rushed in my ears, pounding against my skull. "What the hell are you talking about?" "I'm not lying," he purred, giving me a playful wink. "If you don't believe me, why don't you check your fiancée's private feed?" A sickening dread coiled in my gut. Just then, a loud bang echoed down the hall. Corinne had managed to kick through the bedroom lock, sprinting into Chase's apartment. Seeing me holding Chase's collar, she didn't hesitate for a single second. She lunged forward and shoved me with all her weight. "I told you, take it out on me! Don't you dare touch him—" The force caught me off guard. My back slammed violently into the concrete pillar by the entrance. A sickening crack echoed in my chest as a rib snapped under the impact. Corinne's face flashed with momentary terror. She instinctively reached out toward me, but before her hand could touch my sleeve, Chase let out a soft groan and placed a protective hand over her lower stomach. "He went crazy, Corinne... he terrified me." "Are you okay?" Her focus shifted instantly, her eyes locking onto Chase with frantic devotion. Agony tore through my ribcage with every ragged breath. Cold sweat poured down my forehead. I leaned against the wall, trembling, and forced my hand out toward her. "Your... phone. Give it to me." Corinne’s pupils contracted. She knew. "Eric, there's nothing on there—" "I said give it to me!" The roar tore from my throat like the scream of a cornered, dying animal. She hesitated for three long seconds before finally handing the phone over. The lock screen was still my birthday. The wallpaper was still our engagement photo in the botanical gardens. I opened her private Instagram feed. The top post had hundreds of likes, shared with every mutual friend and family member—except me. The caption read: [We’re going to be parents!] Beneath it was a crisp ultrasound scan. Six weeks along. Even though she hadn't tagged the father, the comment section made it sickeningly clear who everyone was congratulating. [Wonderful! I knew this child-free nonsense wouldn't last. I'm finally getting a grandson!] —My mother. Just two weeks ago, I had emptied my savings to pay off the $70,000 debt she and my father owed on their house. They had held my hands and cried, calling me the most dutiful son on earth. [Make sure you keep this from Eric. All he cares about is work and money anyway. You two just focus on building your life together next door.] —My father. [Congratulations to the happy couple! Just be careful around that rigid brother of yours. If you need someone to cover for your prenatal appointments, I've got your back!] —Brett, my best friend since childhood. The same friend who had almost been caught in a blackmail trap at a hotel three years ago, whom I had dragged out after taking a beating from three guys in the lobby. [Let me know when the baby shower is! I'll book a flight home immediately. If it weren't for Eric holding me back, I would have visited months ago!] —The girl from my hometown whose college tuition I had funded for four years after rescuing her from an abusive household. The spine that had carried the weight of everyone's expectations finally snapped. I slumped against the cold wall and let out a broken, wheezing laugh. Every single person I had poured my life into, every person I had bled for, had known. And every single one of them had chosen to keep me in the dark. They had watched me run around the city, picking out floral centerpieces and tasting wedding cakes with a smile on my face, telling me I was going to be the happiest groom in the world. Behind my back, they were laughing at me. I was their clown, their idiot, their gullible ATM. I clicked on Corinne's profile, deleted the pinned proposal video from last Christmas, and locked the screen. Remembering how she had looked into my eyes and promised eternity made me want to tear my own skin off. "We're done," I whispered. My voice was dead, devoid of any warmth. I pushed myself off the wall. Chase reacted before Corinne could. He sprang forward and caught my wrist, clutching it with the same needy desperation he used to have when we were children. "Eric, come on, is this really necessary? When the baby comes, he can just call you Uncle-Dad. What's the difference?" I looked down at his face with hollow, dead eyes. Slowly, deliberate and unwavering, I shook his hand off. "Don't call me your brother. From this second on, you and I are strangers." "Rumble." Outside, the autumn sky cracked open with thunder. A flash of lightning illuminated the stunned, pale faces of the two people before me. They had never imagined that Eric—the boy who solved everyone's problems, the man who always compromised—could ever say the words "we're strangers." "Eric, after the car accident three years ago, you literally shielded Chase with your own body," Corinne stammered, her voice shaking. "How can you just..." I let out a soft, pitying chuckle. So that was it. My devotion was simply the license they used to destroy me without consequence. Before she could finish her sentence, Chase suddenly collapsed onto the floor, his eyes rolling back. Corinne caught him, her face twisting in panic. "Chase! Chase, wake up!" "Call 911! Someone call an ambulance!" The paramedics arrived in minutes. Soaked from the pouring rain, I sat alone on the metal bench in the hospital corridor. Water dripped from the hem of my trousers, pooling on the linoleum, but I couldn't feel the cold. I stared blankly through the glass window of Chase's room. I watched Corinne gently tuck the blankets around him. I watched the frantic, desperate tremor in her hands as she spoke to the doctor. I watched her fingers shake as she took the thermometer. "Hold on, Chase. I'm right here. I'm not leaving you." She leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his lips. Just three days ago, when I had a burning fever, she had said those exact words to me. That night, I had held her in the dark, shivering and delirious, whispering that I was cold. She had jumped out of bed immediately, rummaging through the medicine cabinet to find fever reducers, bringing me hot lemon ginger tea. Watching her worried face through the steam of the mug, I had truly believed I was the luckiest man alive. It turned out that tenderness wasn't mine. It was just a performance she could hand out to whoever held her interest. I don't know how long I sat there before the door opened and Corinne stepped out. Seeing my soaked clothes clinging to my chest, she grabbed a warm fleece blanket from the linen cart and wrapped it around my shoulders, her eyes brimming with familiar concern. Then, she opened her mouth, and drove a frozen nail straight through my heart. "Eric, go inside and apologize to Chase." I shoved the blanket off, staring at her in disbelief. "What did you just say?" "I said, you only lashed out because you were jealous that Chase is the father. You deliberately said those awful things to trigger his panic attack. Go in there and apologize to him right now." A suffocating wave of absurdity crashed over me. I pointed through the glass at Chase, who was looking right back at me, a subtle, triumphant smirk playing on his lips. "Are you completely out of your mind?!" I screamed, my voice cracking through the quiet hall. "He seduced his own brother's fiancée! He took everything from me! Why the hell should I apologize to him—" "Slap!" A sharp, stinging blow snapped my head to the side. Through my blurred vision, I saw my parents standing beside me, their faces flushed with righteous fury. "Why?" my father barked, glaring at me. "Because he's your younger brother! Is it going to kill you to let him have this?!" Brett hurried down the hall, catching up with them, letting out an irritated sigh. "Eric, cut the drama already. The family needs an heir, doesn't it? Just apologize to Chase and stop acting like a child." I slowly lifted my head, letting my gaze drift across each of their faces. Disgust. Impatience. Resentment. They looked at me as if I were a criminal who had ruined their peace. A broken, final smile spread across my face. I looked straight into Corinne’s eyes. "And if I refuse to apologize?" Her gaze dropped down onto me, cold and stripped of all warmth. "Then I’ll go to your firm and file a formal report. I’ll tell your partners you tried to ruin your brother’s family. Everywhere you apply, I’ll make sure they know what you are." "Your parents will back me up. They'll tell everyone you're the one who caused all this. Who do you think the board will believe?" "You have no job, you gave your savings to your parents, and your name isn't on the condo lease. Without me, Eric, you won't survive." With that, she turned on her heel, and the entire group pushed past me into Chase’s room. I stood in the dim corridor, watching their retreating backs, while her final words echoed on a loop inside my head. "Without me, you won't survive." Fine. Then I won't. Like a marionette with severed strings, I turned toward the stairwell, climbing the concrete steps one by one until I reached the roof. Down below, through the third-floor window, I could see them gathered around Chase’s bed, hovering over him with gentle words and warm blankets. I stepped onto the edge, looked up at the grey sky, and let myself fall. As my body plummeted past the third-floor window, Corinne's face froze in absolute horror. Her instincts moved faster than her mind—she threw herself against the glass, her hands slamming desperately against the cold pane. "Eric, NO!" Inside the room, every single head whipped around as the world went white.