My Wife's Anniversary Gift: Another Man's Child

On my fifth year anniversary, my wife, Rachel Sutton, announces her pregnancy on her social media feed.

"After going through artificial insemination for the 39th time, I finally got pregnant with your child as I wished."

The accompanying photo features Rachel lacing fingers tightly with her first love, Damon Calloway.

I leave a like on the photo calmly. Then, I give them my blessings.

The next thing I know, Rachel calls me on the phone. She roars at me furiously, "Damon is diagnosed with cancer! What's wrong with me bearing a child for him? Garrett Whitaker, you're being too much right now!"

I reply coolly, "Then come back and file for a divorce. Once the divorce is through, you can go ahead and find yourself a husband who won't 'become too much.'"

The moment I hung up the phone, my heart continued to seize with a dull ache.

When we got married, Rachel Sutton had insisted that she was terrified of the pain of childbirth and absolutely didn't want kids.

On top of that, she argued that raising a child was a massive headache. It was both time-consuming and energy-draining.

To respect her wishes, we used protection every single time we were intimate throughout our five years of marriage. I even managed to get my parents off her back, convincing them to never pressure her about bearing children.

But two months ago, she started buying strollers and baby formula. I naively assumed Rachel had finally changed her mind and wanted to start a family with me.

As it turned out, she had absolutely no intention of making me a father. She was doing it to carry on the bloodline of her cancer-ridden first love, Damon Calloway.

When Rachel came home, I happened to be on the phone with my boss, discussing an overseas transfer.

He had been trying to ship me out to our Eldoria branch for ages, but I could never bear to leave Rachel behind, so I kept turning him down.

After today, though, regret washed over me. She wasn't worth throwing away my career for anymore.

Rachel crept into the bedroom, her movements far more cautious and hesitant than usual.

She lay down beside me and, for the first time in our entire marriage, took the initiative to wrap her arms around my waist.

"Are you still mad at me?" she asked, her tone gentle. "Honey, Damon has cancer. All he wants is a biological child before he goes, and I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.

"Besides, I genuinely forgot today was our anniversary… It's just a date on a calendar. We can celebrate it any other time."

The pungent stench of hospital disinfectant rolled off her skin and hit my nostrils.

I peeled her hands off my waist and silently shifted toward the far edge of the bed. The smell was suffocating, making my stomach turn.

"Don't worry about it. From now on, you can spend as much time playing nurse to Damon as