My wife announced her pregnancy in a live stream, unaware that her husband is infertile.-8
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26th November 2025
The Name Spilled Out
"James? You okay? Heard a crash?" Emily's worried voice, knocked at the door. He splashed water on his bleeding hand, toweled it hastily, and yanked the door open. Emily stood there, genuine concern etched on her face. "What happened? Your hand?" James locked eyes. A torrent of betrayal, humiliation, and despair erupted past all reason. "Who is Mark?" The words flew like venom-tipped ice, sharper than he intended. He startled at his own outburst.
Dead Silence in the Living Room
Emily's lips trembled. She backed into the doorframe. "Who is Mark?" James stepped closer, voice a low growl. His wounded hand throbbed. "You… went through my things?" Emily's voice shook with disbelief and fury. "Answer me!" James roared. Emotions exploded. Emily shuddered, tears flooding. She crumpled against the wall, curling up, shoulders heaving. No explanation. Just muffled, despairing sobs in the still air. That jubilant livestream snapshot glowed on his phone—a colossal mockery.
A Late-Night Confession
Silence stretched. Emily's cries faded to hiccups. Outside, darkness reigned; streetlight glow streaked the floor. James stood like stone, drained. Emily looked up, tear-streaked face swollen.
"I… with Mark… only once." Her voice was ragged, nasal. "After… after you got the news… I drank too much… too heartbroken…" She stumbled over words. Office party. Alcohol. Fragility. Mark's comfort. "Just once… James… truly just once…" She buried her face, choking on sobs. "I regretted it… so much… cut off contact… changed my number…" Just once? And it took? James felt it absurd—a grotesque joke.
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"James? You okay? Heard a crash?" Emily's worried voice, knocked at the door. He splashed water on his bleeding hand, toweled it hastily, and yanked the door open. Emily stood there, genuine concern etched on her face. "What happened? Your hand?" James locked eyes. A torrent of betrayal, humiliation, and despair erupted past all reason. "Who is Mark?" The words flew like venom-tipped ice, sharper than he intended. He startled at his own outburst.
Dead Silence in the Living Room
Emily's lips trembled. She backed into the doorframe. "Who is Mark?" James stepped closer, voice a low growl. His wounded hand throbbed. "You… went through my things?" Emily's voice shook with disbelief and fury. "Answer me!" James roared. Emotions exploded. Emily shuddered, tears flooding. She crumpled against the wall, curling up, shoulders heaving. No explanation. Just muffled, despairing sobs in the still air. That jubilant livestream snapshot glowed on his phone—a colossal mockery.
A Late-Night ConfessionSilence stretched. Emily's cries faded to hiccups. Outside, darkness reigned; streetlight glow streaked the floor. James stood like stone, drained. Emily looked up, tear-streaked face swollen.
"I… with Mark… only once." Her voice was ragged, nasal. "After… after you got the news… I drank too much… too heartbroken…" She stumbled over words. Office party. Alcohol. Fragility. Mark's comfort. "Just once… James… truly just once…" She buried her face, choking on sobs. "I regretted it… so much… cut off contact… changed my number…" Just once? And it took? James felt it absurd—a grotesque joke.
NEXT >>
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