My Brother-in-Law’s Postpartum Massage Trap

My husband cut corners on my postpartum care by hiring his own brother.

I was the picture of effortless elegance—a woman in her prime at twenty-eight, with curves that turned heads. But to my husband? I might as well have been yesterday's trash.

His brother's so-called "care"? A joke.

Three days of half-hearted massages, and then he vanished, leaving me aching, swollen, and furious. When I kicked him in the spine, he barely blinked, just hoisted our baby with a scoff.

"You complain about back pain all day. You think I don't hurt from carrying the baby?"

That was it. The last straw.

"If you won't take care of your own wife, then hire a damn professional!"

He left without another word.

I punched my pillow, seething, expecting him to realize I was just exhausted, just desperate.

But the next day, he actually brought someone.

A masseur.

His older brother.

And the moment I saw him, my breath caught.

My husband was… average. Unremarkable in every way.

But his half-brother?

Tall. Broad. Chiseled.

The kind of man who made married women forget their vows.

Their messy family history meant I'd never met him before. Now, standing in my living room, he was all I could see.

Young girls might chase after pretty boys.

But real women?

We knew better.

Yet the way he looked at me—like a wolf eyeing its prey—sent a shiver down my spine.

I wasn't naive. That gaze wasn't innocent.

No matter how breathtaking he was, I was married.

And this was family.

I forced a smile and called for my husband.

Ryan stepped forward, toolkit in hand. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing forearms that could crush a man's skull. Those gray sweatpants? A crime.

Even as I kept my distance, his smirk never faded.

"You must be my sister-in-law. Call me Ryan."

My husband reappeared, grinning like an idiot.

"Thanks for coming. Just fix her back—she's been whining nonstop."

I froze.

He was serious?

Dragging him into the kitchen, I hissed, "This is insane."

He shrugged.

"Who'd want a postpartum woman? Besides, family's free."

I couldn't exactly say, "Your brother looks at me like he wants to devour me."