Six years into our marriage, I brought up divorce with my child-free wife. She broke down, promising to have children for me, until I produced a breast pump. Next to it was a prenatal scan, showing twins. “Found it in your box when we were moving.” “Those twins you asked me to look after, they’re yours, aren’t they?” 1 During the move, I stumbled upon a box tucked away beneath a pile of clutter. It was my wife Audrey’s box, and the lock easily gave way. The first thing that caught my eye was a well-used breast pump. Though meticulously cleaned, the fine scratches etched onto its surface were a silent testament to prolonged use. A sharp pang gripped my chest, and a knot of confusion tightened in my gut. I’m a cardiologist; Audrey is the head nurse in our hospital’s pediatric department. She always used to say she’d seen enough “little monsters” to never want children of her own. She was resolute about being child-free. I’d always dismissed it as a casual complaint, never taking it for anything more. Early in our marriage, she’d gotten pregnant unexpectedly. I’d pleaded with her, again and again, to keep the baby. But she was unyielding, eventually choosing to terminate the pregnancy. Though heartbroken, I prioritized her well-being. To prevent further emotional or physical distress, I underwent a vasectomy at her suggestion. Children were out of the question for us. So, how did she come to possess a breast pump? Could it have been an accident, a mix-up? My curiosity compelled me to dig deeper, until a prenatal scan report emerged. My mind reeled, a thunderclap in my skull, and my fingertips went numb. It was a prenatal scan, showing twins, both with strong heartbeats. A corner of the name was torn, but the age on the report matched Audrey’s. I could no longer convince myself that so many striking similarities were mere coincidence. My deeply trusted, child-free wife, it seemed, might secretly have two children. I’d intended to confront her, to get answers as soon as she returned. But Audrey said the night shift at the nurse’s station was hectic, and she didn’t come home. The next day, I drifted through my morning surgeries at the hospital in a daze, barely holding it together. As I stepped out of the operating room, Audrey strode into my office, her steps light and airy. The moment she saw me, she launched herself forward, pressing a warm kiss to my neck. “My darling husband, you’ve worked so hard! Guess what delicious treat I made for you today?” With a flourish, she presented a lunchbox. Inside, braised pork hocks steamed, the soybeans cooked to a tender mush. She insisted it was nourishing. But the sight of it did nothing for my appetite. She arranged my chopsticks, chattering away. “Those twins in our department are worse than ever. You’re the only one in the country who can do this surgery.” She flashed a smile, her eyes narrowing to alluring slits. “I know you’re swamped with surgeries, but could you pull some strings for them?” The bright sunlight streaming through the window should have made me sweat, but a chill seeped into every pore of my body. It was completely out of character. Knowing Audrey as I did, she’d seen countless partings between life and death. She had never shown favoritism to any patient. Yet, for these twins, she’d brought it up to me more than once. She’d told me they had a rare heart condition, and their single father was struggling to raise them. She worried he wouldn’t be able to bear it if something went wrong. She was more patient with these twins than any other child, checking on them multiple times each night. When their condition worsened, she’d even stayed by their bedside all night. Was this truly the behavior of a nurse towards strangers? Unless they were her own. 2 Looking at that incredibly familiar face, I yearned to demand answers, to unleash a furious argument. But in that moment, it all felt utterly pointless. Three years ago, I’d been sent abroad for a year and a half of advanced training. A year and a half, with a time difference, was more than enough time for her to have a pair of twins. My mind felt tangled in a web of tightly wound ropes, a throbbing mess I couldn’t untangle. I couldn’t fathom it. Audrey and I had started our relationship because she’d been smitten with me at first sight. Working in the same hospital meant our paths crossed frequently. Sought after by countless admirers, she’d only had eyes for me, shedding her usual reserve to pursue me relentlessly. Her unwavering care had gradually melted my heart. For years, our relationship had been harmonious. We were the quintessential model couple in everyone’s eyes. Colleagues often remarked that I had both a thriving career and a fulfilling love life, truly living the dream. I’d believed it myself. It turned out to be a cruel illusion. What I got in return was her having children with another man. She was the one who initiated things with me, yet she was also the first to betray me. This seemingly perfect marriage, it was time for it to end. I pushed the lunchbox away and rubbed the bridge of my nose, feeling utterly exhausted. “I can’t pull any strings,” I said, my voice heavy. “It wouldn’t be fair to the other patients waiting.” Audrey’s face instantly changed, her tone laced with urgency. “It’s just a word from you, how can you not pull strings? Those twins can’t wait any longer. The hospital follows the principle of emergency aid, so let the other patients wait!” I couldn’t believe those words were coming from the head nurse of the pediatric department. The old Audrey, even when faced with a child tragically disfigured in a car accident, remained unfazed. She’d simply say, “It’s destiny.” Now, for those twins, she was willing to utter words so contrary to medical ethics. She didn’t notice my distress. She leaned down, clutching my hand tightly. She swayed, her voice a playful whine. “Please, darling, just this once, can’t we bend the rules? I’m begging you.” In the past, a little coaxing from her was enough for me to grant any request. But now, her almost pleading tone made me deeply uncomfortable. I forced a bitter smile. “Seeing you this anxious, someone might think you’re their mother.” I felt Audrey stiffen, her forced chuckle strained. “Oh, where do you get these ideas? I’m the head nurse, you know. I just can’t bear to see two little lives die waiting. It’s too sad.” Fearing I might press further, she quickly stood up, awkwardly adjusting her clothes. “I need to get back to work. Please, think about it. We definitely need to get them moved up the queue.” It sounded like a command. Her patience had clearly worn thin. I said nothing. As she left, her phone remained on my desk. A powerful premonition urged me to pick it up. I entered her birthday, and the phone unlocked. Almost instinctively, I tapped on her online shopping app, searching through her purchase history from three years ago. 3 The purchase record for that breast pump nailed me to a pillar of shame, utterly immobile. What followed was an endless list of baby bottles, swaddling blankets, diapers, and countless other infant items. Each new discovery felt like another hole being gouged into my heart, bleeding profusely. Audrey likely never imagined that the keepsakes she couldn’t bear to discard would one day become the fuse that exposed her betrayal. My unconditional trust in her over the years had left her utterly unguarded around me. She hadn’t even bothered to delete her shopping history. Putting the phone down, I felt suffocated, unable to breathe. Numbness spread from my fingertips, engulfing my entire body. My brain felt like it was being repeatedly clawed at by a giant hand, torn to shreds. Fragmented memories began to coalesce in my mind. It turned out those details I’d noticed before weren’t figments of my imagination. One time, idly scrolling through social media, I stumbled upon a new post from Audrey. The photo showed a pair of strikingly similar-looking boy and girl, holding cotton candy, their smiles radiant. Audrey’s caption read: “My little darlings are all grown up~” I was confused. Audrey had told me she was away for advanced training, so how could she be posting something like this? When I clicked on her profile, it all vanished. It was as if it had been my imagination. I called her, delicately bringing up the topic. Hearing my query, Audrey chuckled. “It must be a glitch with the app. I’ve had it happen before. You don’t honestly think I’d have a pair of twins behind your back, do you?” I found it a little humorous myself, and dismissed it. Then, on another occasion, while searching for a file, I found a rental agreement in Audrey’s folder. The name on it was Audrey. While she often worked late shifts, she always came home, no matter how late. It made no sense for her to rent an apartment elsewhere. When I asked, she explained she was helping a colleague who was experiencing financial difficulties, so she’d lent a hand. At the time, I thought she was kind-hearted and even transferred thirty thousand dollars to her, worried she didn’t have enough money. Now, looking back, I was a colossal fool, completely oblivious. I was being sold out and still counting the money for them. The rhythmic tap-tap-tap of heels on the floor. Audrey burst through the door, her movements frantic. Her first instinct was to snatch her phone. She started to leave, then hesitated, turning back to me. “Did you… did you look at my phone just now?” she asked, a tentative edge to her voice. I feigned confusion, lifting my head. “No, why?” Audrey visibly relaxed, offering an awkward laugh. “Nothing.” This only solidified my suspicion that she had something to hide. 4 That evening, I lingered at the office for an extra hour before heading home. My mind was in turmoil, and even the simple act of unlocking the door felt like it sapped all my strength. Pushing the door open, the house was dark. A few candles flickered on the dining table, their flames casting dancing shadows on Audrey’s smiling face. “You’re back, darling. I’ve been waiting for you.” Audrey was wearing a black, backless nightgown, her voluptuous figure looking even more alluring in the candlelight. A simple sway of her hips was enough to captivate. I knew she was inviting me. But I merely shrugged off my coat, utterly devoid of interest. Seeing my lack of response, she pressed herself against my back. Her breath caressed my neck, hot and insistent. “Do you want to be a father?” Her sudden question made me freeze. As if she’d gotten the reaction she wanted, her embrace tightened. “You should get your vasectomy reversed. The success rate is really high. We could have a child.” I found it laughable. I’d nearly begged her on my knees to keep our child. She hadn’t budged an inch. The day she underwent the abortion, I sat withered on the surgical waiting room bench, my eyes red and swollen from tears. In my mind, I could almost hear the incessant cries of my unborn child. Those cries, which should have been sweet, lisping calls of “Daddy.” But it was all impossible now. For Audrey’s sake, I’d stifled my grief and undergone the vasectomy. Before I even had a chance to fully recover, I had to return to the operating room to treat patients. Exhausted, my body had barely healed properly. It’s fair to say I’d nearly sacrificed my life to fulfill Audrey’s desire to be child-free. When my parents pressed us for grandchildren, I’d lied, claiming it was my fault, to spare Audrey any trouble. Because of this, my parents were deeply disappointed in me, almost to the point of being admitted to the hospital. My in-laws, upon learning it was "my" fault, were relentless. If they couldn’t get money from me, they’d point fingers and call me an incapable man, blaming me for their lack of grandchildren. They found fault with everything I did, even instigating Audrey to divorce me. For her, I had weathered every storm, no matter how fierce. Now, what did she mean by asking these things? Audrey pulled me to the dining table, leaning on her elbows, watching me with amused interest. “I always feel like something’s missing between us. I’ve thought about it, and it must be a child.” She continued to talk, never pausing, as she served me food. “Once you become a father, you’ll definitely understand a parent’s heart. You won’t be so cold towards patients anymore.” My fists clenched, and my breathing grew heavy. It all came back to this. This entire elaborate dinner was still about those twins. Looking at the mountain of food she’d piled onto my plate, I pushed it back towards her. “Being child-free is actually quite nice,” I said, my voice cold. “You eat. I’m not hungry.” Audrey’s smile froze, instantly replaced by anger. “Owen, what do you mean? I spent all this time cooking, and you won’t even touch it?” “I’m tired. I’m going to rest.” Through the closed door, Audrey’s grumbling reached my ears, word for word. The truth was, I deeply wanted children, but not with Audrey.
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