At six the next morning, Adrian still hadn’t returned.
I was already awake.
I showered, changed into loose clothes, and placed the signed divorce agreement on the dining table.
Beside it, I left my wedding ring.
Nothing else.
No farewell letter.
No accusation.
I had spent too many years explaining my pain to a man who always found a reason not to understand it.
At seven thirty, I arrived at the hospital.
Because I worked there, several nurses recognized me.
No one asked unnecessary questions.
My colleague, Dr. Hannah Reed, entered the consultation room and closed the door.
—Isabel, are you certain?
I looked at the ultrasound image one last time.
My hand trembled.
This wasn’t an easy decision.
Nothing about that morning was easy.
But it was mine.
Before anything could proceed, however, Hannah frowned at my chart.
—Wait.
She checked the screen again.
Then she looked at me.
—Your bloodwork from yesterday has an abnormal result. I need another test before we do anything.
I closed my eyes.
—How long?
—A few hours.
I nodded.
Then my phone vibrated.
Adrian.
I rejected the call.
He called again.
And again.
On the seventh attempt, a message appeared.
Where are you?
I didn’t answer.
Another arrived.
Why is your ring on the table?
Then:
ISABEL, WHAT IS THIS DIVORCE AGREEMENT?
I turned the phone face down.
Twenty minutes later, Hannah left to order the additional tests.
That’s when the door burst open.
Adrian stood there.
His shirt was wrinkled.
His eyes were bloodshot.
And behind him stood Natalie.
Still wearing the same cream coat from yesterday.
I stared at them.
Even now.
Even when he came looking for his wife, he had brought her with him.
Adrian rushed toward me.
—What are you doing here?
I almost smiled.
—Interesting question to ask your wife in her own hospital.
His gaze fell on the ultrasound beside me.
He stopped.
All the color drained from his face.
—Whose is that?
I said nothing.
Adrian picked it up.
His eyes moved across the printed information.
ISABEL MOORE.
His hand began shaking.
—You’re pregnant?
Natalie went completely still.
Adrian looked at me as though the room had disappeared around us.
—Why didn’t you tell me?
I looked directly at him.
—I tried.
His lips parted.
—When?
—The night I found out.
I turned toward Natalie.
—But before I could, she posted a photograph of you accompanying her to prenatal care.
Adrian looked at Natalie.
For the first time, uncertainty crossed his face.
I continued:
—Then there were the trips. The bracelet. The hotel reservations. The midnight calls.
—Isabel, it’s not what—
I laughed softly.
—Please don’t insult me with that sentence.
He stepped closer.
—The baby is mine?
That question destroyed whatever softness remained inside me.
—Get out.
His face changed.
—I didn’t mean—
—Get out.
Natalie suddenly spoke.
—Adrian, maybe we should leave.
He turned on her.
—Why did you post those photographs?
She froze.
—What?
—You told me Isabel knew I was helping you.
Natalie’s expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
So did Adrian.
Before anyone could speak, Hannah returned.
She stopped when she saw them.
Then her expression became professional.
—Isabel, I have your results.
I stood.
—Can we proceed?
Adrian’s head snapped toward me.
—Proceed with what?
Silence.
His gaze moved from Hannah to me.
Then to the paperwork on the desk.
Understanding arrived slowly.
And horribly.
—No.
He stepped forward.
—Isabel, no.
I didn’t answer.
—You were going to end the pregnancy without telling me?
—You made your choices without telling me.
His voice broke.
—That’s our child.
—And yesterday, while your pregnant wife was working through cramps, you left our home because Natalie called.
He went silent.
Natalie lowered her eyes.
Then Hannah interrupted.
—Actually, we can’t proceed today.
I turned toward her.
—Why?
She handed me the laboratory report.
—The repeat test confirmed something unexpected.
My heart began pounding.
—What?
—Your pregnancy needs specialist assessment first. There are findings we need to clarify before any procedure.
Adrian moved closer.
—Is she in danger?
Hannah ignored him.
—I want imaging immediately.
Twenty minutes later, I was staring at a monitor.
Adrian waited outside despite my telling him to leave.
Natalie had disappeared.
Hannah studied the screen for a long time.
Too long.
Finally, she looked at me.
—Isabel, I need to ask you something.
—What?
—Have you ever undergone fertility treatment?
I frowned.
—No.
—Any procedure involving stored embryos?
—Never.
Her expression became strange.
She turned the screen slightly.
—I need genetic testing before I say anything definitive.
Cold moved through me.
—Hannah, what’s wrong?
Before she could answer, shouting erupted outside.
Adrian.
Then Natalie’s voice.
I opened the door.
Natalie was crying while Adrian held a document in his hand.
He looked furious.
—Tell her.
Natalie shook her head.
—Adrian—
—Tell Isabel whose baby you’re carrying.
My stomach tightened.
Natalie’s face went white.
I looked at Adrian.
—What is happening?
He handed me the paper.
It was part of Natalie’s prenatal record.
There was a fertility clinic listed near the bottom.
A clinic I recognized.
Not because I had ever been treated there.
But because three years earlier, during a medical procedure, I had signed consent for several tissue samples to be stored for research.
My hands began shaking.
—Why is my patient identification number on Natalie’s fertility record?
Natalie started backing away.
Adrian stared at her.
—That’s what I want to know.
Then Hannah came out behind me holding my new test results.
She looked from my document to Natalie’s.
Her face changed.
—Isabel…
I turned.
—What?
She lowered her voice.
—The genetic markers don’t make sense.
Adrian went rigid.
—What does that mean?
Hannah looked directly at me.
—It means we need to investigate both pregnancies immediately.
Natalie suddenly ran.
Adrian’s expression changed.
—Stop her!
But before anyone reached the elevator, Natalie turned around.
Tears streamed down her face.
—You want the truth?
She pointed at Adrian.
—Ask your mother.
Everything stopped.
Adrian stared at her.
—My mother?
Natalie laughed bitterly.
—She arranged the clinic. She paid for everything.
Then she looked at me.
And her next words made my blood run cold.
—Isabel, Adrian wasn’t supposed to find out that either of these pregnancies existed.
