“My secretary is pregnant,” my husband says, voice dull. I don’t understand why that worries him so much. All day he isn’t himself.
“She got pregnant from me. From me.”
“That’s not true,” I can barely stand on my feet—I search for something to grab.
“Why are you joking so cruelly? My thoughts are swimming.”
“We couldn’t end up with a future where he’s having a child with his mistress.”
“I don’t see the point in lying and twisting things,” my husband’s voice rings like steel. “We need to decide something.”
“Us?” I croak.
“Decide? Yes. We promised each other at the altar that we wouldn’t leave each other in grief. Let’s keep that vow.”