of antiseptic, the crinkle of the paper on the examination table, the cheerful, deta

asked, her eyes wide with what I thought w

r hand. "I want you to have the life you

anted. It was

oubt entered my mind. A passing thought about what it might be like. I mentioned it to her once

y. "I went for a check-up. They said... they said it would be v

. I told her it didn't matter. It was a sign. We were meant to be just us. I pushed

uel performance. The infertility diag

company in a town an hour away. It had been going on for ten years. When I asked her about it, she waved

They hadn't retired to Florida; they' d moved to that quiet suburban town. A private investigat

a birthday party, a cake with "Happy 5th Birthday Luke & Ben!" written in blue frosting. Her parents beaming in the back

acrificed his own chance at fatherhood for a woman who was building another family

hen, her voice trying for contrition. It didn

trate a decade-long lie, you have children with another man while I think we're

g. "I was confused! I wanted a child, and

the first time I'd said the wor

ffended. "It wasn't like t

ulted in a decade of lies and two children? Do you hear yoursel

riage. She was defending her choices. And in that moment, I knew the man she married, the Ethan Miller who loved her uncondit