The Past's Unwanted Return

along with Sarah's plans. We went to the first doctor's appointment. I held her hand while the obstetrician conf

ut not impossible. A one-in-a-million chance. I clung to that possibility because the alternative was too devastatin

ny" narrative. She would wake up from nightmares, c

y chest. "The house was on fire, and you we

ed by this superstition. I saw a woman who was so afraid of some unseen cosmic threat that she had latched onto this pr

angling the screen away from me whenever a text came in. She started having long, whispered phone calls in the other

t my

end fro

sacrifice for his wife' s happiness seven years ago was bei

Sarah it was just a routine check-up. My plan was simple: get another sperm count test. If, by some miracle, the vasectomy had

n I would know. And I would have to confron

my office, trying to focus on a spreadsheet, but my mind kept drifting. I heard her car pull into the driveway ea

ound carried. I got up from my desk, my heart starting to pound.

an is home," she was saying. Her tone wasn't on

e" chapter of her past. They had reconnected at a high school reunion about a year ago. She' d told me about it, laughing about how he was sti

ruel laugh escaped her lips. "He actually believes that stupid story

ar closer to the crack in the doo

r abortion might be impossible. This was the only way. And it worked perfectly. In a fe

wasn' t talking about our life. She was talking about a

ng. "Ethan' s business is doing well. He' ll provide for everything. Our son wi

r

to. The vasectomy hadn't failed. It wasn' t a one-in-a-million miracle. It was a cold, c

ut, my hands shaking. It was a text from Sa

old, scheduled messag

ou, my love. Can' t wait for o

just overheard was so stark, so grotesque, it made me feel physically ill. The woman I loved, the woman I had sacrificed for, didn' t e

owards the kitchen. The betrayal was so immense, so absolute, that it