My wife announced her pregnancy in a live stream, unaware that her husband is infertile.-9
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26th November 2025
Between Child and Betrayal
James stayed silent. He sank onto the sofa like a sandbag. Emily crawled hesitantly to his feet, gazing up tearfully, pleading. "I know I was wrong… unforgivably wrong… I deserve to die… how could I…" Her voice quaked. "But… this baby…" Her trembling, cold hand brushed her stomach as if touching a fragile dream. "He's innocent… he's here… James… a little life…" The child's innocence stabbed like a blunt knife, sawing at his heart—a slow, deep agony. Betrayal was raw reality. The child's existence undeniable. What to do? Forgive? Impossible. Abandon? The "innocent" label weighed on his conscience.
Night in Separate Rooms
That night, James silently gathered pillows and blankets and locked himself in the cramped study. Only a narrow sofa bed inside. He lay in darkness, eyes open, listening to his own labored breaths and Emily's stifled, anguished weeping from the master bedroom. She didn't knock—perhaps knowing words were futile. Pitch-black enveloped him like a suffocating shroud. The cracked mirror haunted him. Mark's face blurred. The report's icy "zero."
A Silent Weekend
The entire weekend turned the home into a frozen tomb. They avoided speech, answers monosyllabic. Emily grew unnervingly quiet, pale and hollow-eyed. She drifted like a ghost through chores, moving soundlessly, avoiding eye contact as if James were breakable or dangerous. Meals appeared on schedule, thick with tension. James ate mechanically. Emily sat opposite, barely touching her food, lost in thought. Suffocating awkwardness and pain hung heavy in the air.
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James stayed silent. He sank onto the sofa like a sandbag. Emily crawled hesitantly to his feet, gazing up tearfully, pleading. "I know I was wrong… unforgivably wrong… I deserve to die… how could I…" Her voice quaked. "But… this baby…" Her trembling, cold hand brushed her stomach as if touching a fragile dream. "He's innocent… he's here… James… a little life…" The child's innocence stabbed like a blunt knife, sawing at his heart—a slow, deep agony. Betrayal was raw reality. The child's existence undeniable. What to do? Forgive? Impossible. Abandon? The "innocent" label weighed on his conscience.
Night in Separate Rooms
That night, James silently gathered pillows and blankets and locked himself in the cramped study. Only a narrow sofa bed inside. He lay in darkness, eyes open, listening to his own labored breaths and Emily's stifled, anguished weeping from the master bedroom. She didn't knock—perhaps knowing words were futile. Pitch-black enveloped him like a suffocating shroud. The cracked mirror haunted him. Mark's face blurred. The report's icy "zero."
A Silent Weekend
The entire weekend turned the home into a frozen tomb. They avoided speech, answers monosyllabic. Emily grew unnervingly quiet, pale and hollow-eyed. She drifted like a ghost through chores, moving soundlessly, avoiding eye contact as if James were breakable or dangerous. Meals appeared on schedule, thick with tension. James ate mechanically. Emily sat opposite, barely touching her food, lost in thought. Suffocating awkwardness and pain hung heavy in the air.
NEXT >>
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