"But before you leave us," I continued, my voice trembling despite my effort to keep my composure, "there's something you need to know. This baby is yours. You're going to be a father.
The words were suspended between us, fragile and heavy.
Jake looked at me as if I had spoken to him in another language. Confusion was reflected on his face, followed by disbelief.
"That's not funny," he whispered.
"I would never joke about this," I said. The doctors were wrong, or at least, not entirely. You have oligospermia. Low sperm count. Not zero. That doesn't mean you can't have children.
Silence filled the room.
Jake's anger faded away as if someone had removed a plug. His shoulders sank. Her eyes filled with tears.
"I thought..." His voice broke. I thought you were cheating on me. I thought I couldn't give you what you always wanted.
My heart broke at the sound of his pain. All those years of silent guilt, of believing that it wasn't enough, had collapsed on him at once.
"I never doubted you," I said, crossing the room toward him. Not for a second.
He slumped down on the couch, burying his face in his hands. I knelt in front of him, resting my forehead on his knees as his sobs shook him.
Continued on the next page//
