My wife announced her pregnancy in a live stream, unaware that her husband is infertile.-3
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26th November 2025
The Report on the Fridge
Amid the numbness, an image of a piece of paper invaded his mind—cold, printed, impersonal, clinging to their refrigerator door for days. It was his semen analysis report. The doctor's clear, detached voice, tinged with rehearsed sympathy, echoed in his ears as vividly as yesterday: "Mr. James, all results are in… I'm deeply sorry… Your condition… is obstructive azoospermia. This means the probability of natural conception with your partner is… typically stated as virtually zero." That "zero" had been spoken with absolute, chilling certainty. He recalled dragging his leaden legs from that antiseptic-smelling room, the hallway lights glaring harshly, exposing him mercilessly.
The Forced Smile
"James! James! Did you hear? We're having a baby!" Emily's exuberant voice pierced his icy shell as she waved wildly at the camera, cheeks flushed, her tone sickly sweet. "Sweetheart! Don't just sit there! Come say hi to everyone! See all the well-wishers! This is our baby!" The phone camera swung abruptly toward him. In the tiny front-facing lens, he saw his own distorted reflection. Summoning every ounce of strength, he forced his facial muscles into a grotesque upward curve. His arm rose stiffly, puppet-like, waving mechanically at the lens. His throat felt choked by gravel, unable to utter a sound. That strained smile on screen looked ten times worse than tears.
The Livestream's "Happy Husband"
"Oh, he's just too overwhelmed, stunned speechless!" Emily giggled, her tone sweetly chiding as she turned back to the camera. "Thanks again, everyone! We're just… so incredibly happy today!" James held the distorted smile, rigidly perched on the sofa edge. Comments flew past tirelessly: "Hubby's totally floored, haha!" "Congrats, dad-to-be!" "Family of three soon!" Each "dad" in the feed pierced his taut nerves like a red-hot needle. The buzzing in his head persisted; Emily's euphoric voice and fans' cheers felt muffled, unreal, as if heard through thick, frosted glass. His sole thought was to flee this corner of artificial brightness and cheer.
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Amid the numbness, an image of a piece of paper invaded his mind—cold, printed, impersonal, clinging to their refrigerator door for days. It was his semen analysis report. The doctor's clear, detached voice, tinged with rehearsed sympathy, echoed in his ears as vividly as yesterday: "Mr. James, all results are in… I'm deeply sorry… Your condition… is obstructive azoospermia. This means the probability of natural conception with your partner is… typically stated as virtually zero." That "zero" had been spoken with absolute, chilling certainty. He recalled dragging his leaden legs from that antiseptic-smelling room, the hallway lights glaring harshly, exposing him mercilessly.
The Forced Smile
"James! James! Did you hear? We're having a baby!" Emily's exuberant voice pierced his icy shell as she waved wildly at the camera, cheeks flushed, her tone sickly sweet. "Sweetheart! Don't just sit there! Come say hi to everyone! See all the well-wishers! This is our baby!" The phone camera swung abruptly toward him. In the tiny front-facing lens, he saw his own distorted reflection. Summoning every ounce of strength, he forced his facial muscles into a grotesque upward curve. His arm rose stiffly, puppet-like, waving mechanically at the lens. His throat felt choked by gravel, unable to utter a sound. That strained smile on screen looked ten times worse than tears.
The Livestream's "Happy Husband"
"Oh, he's just too overwhelmed, stunned speechless!" Emily giggled, her tone sweetly chiding as she turned back to the camera. "Thanks again, everyone! We're just… so incredibly happy today!" James held the distorted smile, rigidly perched on the sofa edge. Comments flew past tirelessly: "Hubby's totally floored, haha!" "Congrats, dad-to-be!" "Family of three soon!" Each "dad" in the feed pierced his taut nerves like a red-hot needle. The buzzing in his head persisted; Emily's euphoric voice and fans' cheers felt muffled, unreal, as if heard through thick, frosted glass. His sole thought was to flee this corner of artificial brightness and cheer.
NEXT >>
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