My wife announced her pregnancy in a live stream, unaware that her husband is infertile.-6
Admin
26th November 2025
Suffocation on a Park Bench
He skipped work. Steering aimlessly, he parked near a secluded park. Cold wind stung his cheeks. Sitting on a frigid bench, he mindlessly reopened Emily's livestream app. Last night's replay topped the feed: "Explosive News! I'm Going to Be a Mom!" Cover photo: Emily beaming, hands cradling her belly—a picture of pure bliss. What should have been hopeful now mocked him like a savage irony poster. He slammed the power button; the screen died like a dark well, reflecting his own agonized, twisted face.
Clues on an Old Phone
Home alone—Emily had left for a prenatal craft class at the community center. She'd become excessively cautious lately. Silence swallowed the house; even his breath echoed. He wandered like a lost ghost. His eyes settled on her locked desk drawer. Though he rarely invaded her privacy, a fierce urge propelled him. He found the spare key. Inside, beneath clutter, lay an old phone with a cracked screen. Long disconnected, never repaired or discarded. He pressed the power button. To his surprise, it flickered to life, battery barely clinging.
A Name in the Texts
The background was an old photo from their dating days—both young and naive. He unlocked it, opened the messages app. Mostly junk mail. Scrolling down, fingers trembling with dread, he froze at records from months prior. An unlisted number. Messages leaped out: "Lovely afternoon yesterday. Home safe?" "Coffee Wednesday night? Same place?" "Missing your warm smile :)" Last one, from Emily, sent just after he'd gotten that cursed report: "Thanks for your comfort. It's been so rough—glad you're here, Mark." Mark? James's mind exploded. Blood surged to his temples.
NEXT >>
He skipped work. Steering aimlessly, he parked near a secluded park. Cold wind stung his cheeks. Sitting on a frigid bench, he mindlessly reopened Emily's livestream app. Last night's replay topped the feed: "Explosive News! I'm Going to Be a Mom!" Cover photo: Emily beaming, hands cradling her belly—a picture of pure bliss. What should have been hopeful now mocked him like a savage irony poster. He slammed the power button; the screen died like a dark well, reflecting his own agonized, twisted face.
Clues on an Old PhoneHome alone—Emily had left for a prenatal craft class at the community center. She'd become excessively cautious lately. Silence swallowed the house; even his breath echoed. He wandered like a lost ghost. His eyes settled on her locked desk drawer. Though he rarely invaded her privacy, a fierce urge propelled him. He found the spare key. Inside, beneath clutter, lay an old phone with a cracked screen. Long disconnected, never repaired or discarded. He pressed the power button. To his surprise, it flickered to life, battery barely clinging.
A Name in the TextsThe background was an old photo from their dating days—both young and naive. He unlocked it, opened the messages app. Mostly junk mail. Scrolling down, fingers trembling with dread, he froze at records from months prior. An unlisted number. Messages leaped out: "Lovely afternoon yesterday. Home safe?" "Coffee Wednesday night? Same place?" "Missing your warm smile :)" Last one, from Emily, sent just after he'd gotten that cursed report: "Thanks for your comfort. It's been so rough—glad you're here, Mark." Mark? James's mind exploded. Blood surged to his temples.
NEXT >>
Leave A Comment