Naledi had never imagined having this kind of life. Marble floors, silver cutlery, fresh lilies delivered every morning. It should have felt like a dream. Instead, it felt like walking on glass; sharp, fragile, and constantly on the edge of breaking. The pregnancy was getting heavier day by day. Her feet swelled to the size of fists, and the baby seemed to enjoy dancing on her bladder. But the weight that truly crushed her wasn't physical, it was emotional. Surrounded by people who acted like that, she didn't belong there and was draining the life out of her. Shawn was hardly home. Business trips, investor meetings, client dinners- always something. When he did appear, he was distant. Cold. Sometimes, it felt like he looked right through her. The only thing between them was the baby growing inside her.
And even that, she wasn't sure he believed in.
Naledi has been carrying a small deep fear as her belly continued growing. She thought Shawn was going to question her. After all, their relationship hadn't started in the most conventional of ways, and the whispers of people made her more unsure of her place.
But when she tried to bring it up tentatively, Shawn just shrugged. Indifferent. No emotions. Not even a hit of curiosity. It confused her more than if he'd accused her outright.
Naledi didn't know which was worse: being doubted or not cared about at all.
Shawn's mother, Margaret, made sure to remind Naledi, in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, that she didn't measure up. The air changed every time she walked into a room. She dismissed Naledi's cooking, made snide remarks, and constantly compared her to "how things used to be." Margaret even enrolled Naledi in etiquette and posture classes, claiming it would help her "adjust" to the family standards.
"You must learn to walk like a lady, not stomp like a street girl," she said one morning over breakfast when they stayed overnight, barely glancing up from her tea.
Shawn's childhood friends, Miles and Melissa, were no better. They spoke around her, never to her, as if she were invisible. Their laughter in the hallway stung more than any insult—they didn't have to say the words; their eyes said it for them. She didn't belong.
And yet, Naledi Rain tried.
She practiced how to sit, how to speak softly, how to hold her fork the "proper" way. She walked in heels around the house until her back ached and her ankles burned. She smiled through the discomfort, clinging to hope that maybe, just maybe, things would get better.
The one person who seemed to notice her struggle was Lincoln's grandmother. Word reached her—probably through Lincoln—about how exhausted Naledi had become. The old woman didn't say much, but she had presence. Within days, a nanny and housekeeper were hired for Naledi's mansion. Margaret was called into a private meeting and came out pale-faced and quiet. It was the first time Naledi saw a crack in her iron demeanor.
Still, Naledi didn't want to give up. She wanted Shawn's mother to like her, or at least accept her. She told herself it was for the baby—for the life they were building.
But one evening changed everything.
Shawn came home unexpectedly early. She stood up, smiling, thinking maybe they could talk—maybe he would notice how much effort she'd been putting in. Instead, he stared at her with a look that chilled her to the bone.
"Stop pretending to be someone you're not," he said, voice flat.
Confused and hurt, she wanted to ask what he meant. Did he mean her past? Her job at the bar? The way she dressed now? But he left before she could say a word.
It wasn't until the next afternoon, when she went over to Margaret's house to drop something is when that the truth unraveled itself like a cruel joke. She overheard Margaret and Melissa laughing in the tea room.
"She even has the same hairstyle now," Melissa giggled.
Margaret sipped her tea smugly. "It's perfect. The more she tries to be like Melody, the more pitiful she looks. Imagine thinking you could ever replace her in Shawn's heart."
Naledi froze in the hallway. Her hands shook. Her face went numb. They had orchestrated everything, down to the etiquette, the clothes, even the way she sat. Not for her, not to help her fit in… but to make her a ghost. A shadow of the woman Shawn had loved and lost.
That night, Naledi sat in the bathtub for an hour, crying softly so no one would hear. But the next morning, she showed up to her posture class right on time. Back straight. Eyes clear.
Because she wasn't doing it for them anymore. She was doing it for the daughter she was carrying. For the future she wanted to build. One day, her child would know that her mother didn't quit, even when everything in her heart said to walk away.
She would become the woman she needed to be. Not for their approval—but for her legacy.