The ache in my lower back was a constant companion these days, a dull, throbbing reminder of the life growing inside me. Eight months. Each day felt like a year, a beautiful, exhausting eternity. My feet were perpetually swollen, my breath perpetually short, but every flutter, every kick, filled me with a warmth that nothing else could touch. This baby. Our baby. My entire world was shifting, preparing for him.
The train was packed, a sardine can of humanity on its way home. I clung to a pole, swaying with the rhythm of the rails, my belly pressing against the cold metal. My reserved seat, the one I’d always managed to snag on this specific carriage, was inexplicably taken. A brief wave of irritation, then resignation. It’s fine, I can manage. Just a few more stops. I closed my eyes, picturing the quiet comfort of my apartment, the smell of dinner simmering, his arms around me. He’d been so attentive, so excited. My partner. My rock.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I opened my eyes and scanned the crowded carriage. Everyone looked tired, just like me. Then I saw her. A woman, a few years younger than me perhaps, standing near the doors. She wasn’t visibly struggling, no obvious injury, no cane, no baby bump. But something about her eyes caught me. A weariness that went deeper than just a long day. A quiet sadness. I remembered those days, before the bump, before the joy, when life just felt heavy. I remembered feeling invisible, overlooked.
A small voice in my head, the maternal instinct already kicking in, whispered, Be kind. Always be kind.
I hesitated for a moment. I’m eight months pregnant, I barely have the energy to stand. But then, a stronger impulse. A sudden, almost overwhelming urge to simply offer comfort. It felt like the right thing to do. A small act of human connection in this anonymous, bustling space. My exhaustion was temporary; her sadness seemed… entrenched.
I took a deep breath. “Excuse me,” I said, my voice a little reedy. She looked up, startled. “You can… you can have my seat.” I gestured to the empty space where I had been standing just moments before, still warm from my body. It wasn’t a proper seat, just a small bit of ledge next to a door, but it was something.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
She blinked, surprised. “Oh, no, I couldn’t. You’re pregnant.”
“It’s fine,” I insisted, forcing a smile. “Just a quick stop for me. Really, please.” I took a step back, making it clear the space was hers.
She gave me a small, grateful smile and slid into the spot. She looked relieved, leaning her head against the window. I stood over her, close enough to feel the faint warmth radiating from her, close enough to hear the soft sigh she let out. Good deed done. A tiny ripple of warmth spread through me, offsetting the ache in my feet.
The train rumbled on. She pulled out her phone, probably to distract herself, just like I often did. I wasn’t looking to pry, but I was standing right there, and the screen was bright. A message popped up. My eyes, weary as they were, caught a glimpse. A name at the top. A name that made my heart give a strange, lurching jump.
My partner’s name.
My breath hitched. No, it couldn’t be. Just a coincidence. Maybe they knew each other from work? He knew a lot of people. I tried to look away, tried to tell myself it was nothing, but my eyes were drawn back, mesmerized by the glowing screen.
Another message appeared. A picture. A selfie. His face, smiling. And hers, next to him. Tucked close. Intimate. My mind scrambled, trying to make sense of it. A work party? A casual acquaintance? But then, the text below the photo.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Thinking of you, love. Can’t wait for tonight. And how’s our little peanut doing?“
My vision blurred. The world around me, the sounds of the train, the faces of strangers, all faded into a deafening roar. OUR LITTLE PEANUT. The words echoed in my head, a hammer blow to my chest. He called our baby his “little peanut.” It was our private nickname.
My hands flew to my belly, instinctively protecting the life inside me. The ache in my back vanished, replaced by a cold, searing pain that started in my gut and spread like wildfire. I looked at her, truly looked at her. Her eyes, still tired, but now I saw something else – a soft curve to her jacket, a slight fullness around her middle that wasn’t just winter layers.
She looked up then, her eyes meeting mine. And in that moment, in her gaze, there was no surprise, no recognition. Just a fleeting, almost pitying glance, as if she knew, or perhaps, didn’t care that I knew.
Then, she slowly, deliberately, placed her hand over her own stomach. Not a protective gesture like mine, but a gentle, comforting rub. My mind reeled. SHE WAS PREGNANT TOO.
The air left my lungs. My knees buckled. I stumbled back, grabbing the pole for support, my knuckles white. The train stopped at my station. The doors hissed open. I stood there, frozen, the weight of the world pressing down on me.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
She looked at me one last time, a flicker of something in her eyes I couldn’t quite decipher. Then she smiled, a small, knowing smile, and stepped off the train, blending into the crowd.
I didn’t move. The doors closed, sealing me in with my shattered reality. My baby kicked, a frantic, insistent thrum against my ribs. A tiny life, utterly innocent, trapped inside a suddenly broken world. I had given up my seat, my comfort, my peace, to the woman carrying my partner’s other child. The lesson she gave me in return? It wasn’t one of kindness. It was a brutal, gut-wrenching lesson in betrayal. And I would never, ever forget it.
