2: 2
Dr. Matthews looked at me, startled.
"Conceiving naturally in your situation is very difficult. Are you sure you want to terminate?"
"With your husband's condition, if you want a child again you may have to go through IVF. You'll go through a lot of suffering."
I let out a bitter laugh. To spare Cliff's pride, I had never once mentioned his low sperm count to him.
When I got pregnant, I was overjoyed, and I'd always believed the baby was a gift from heaven.
Even so, hearing the doctor ask that, I couldn't stop my hand from moving to my belly, my eyes brimming.
"Just book me in first."
Whoever suffered in the future, none of it had anything to do with me anymore.
When I got home, my mother-in-law glanced at me from the kitchen,
then launched straight into her usual scolding,
"Where have you been? Coming home this late, what about my precious grandchild going hungry? You stupid, good-for-nothing thing!"
I finished changing out of my shoes and stood up,
and instead of bowing my head and apologizing like I always did,
I stared at her and asked,
"Do you know what Cliff went out to do?"
Carla froze for a second, something uneasy flickering in her eyes.
"What else? Working, of course. You think it's easy, feeding a freeloader like you?"
"Day after day with nothing to do but let your mind run wild. Go wash your hands and eat."
Strange. I'd always been slow, but this time it hit me at once: so she knew too.
They'd only kept it from me.
Numb, I sat down at the table while she kept muttering.
I wanted to argue that I wasn't a freeloader. I didn't have a job, but I'd never put my paintbrush down.
It broke my heart, watching Cliff fly all over the country, so after we got the marriage license I'd handed over every cent of my illustration fees to cover the household, buying him decent clothes, even paying for the pricey health supplements Carla took year-round.
But in this house I'd grown used to silence, and in the end I said nothing.
I ate without tasting a thing, then went to the kitchen to wash the dishes on my own.
Last time Cliff was home, I'd turned to leave after dinner and Carla called me back.
"Go wash the dishes. So dramatic over one little pregnancy! When I was pregnant I did everything, and my child turned out perfectly fine."
Cliff pushed back on my behalf, and I'd foolishly played peacemaker, saying it was only a few dishes.
Looking back now, he'd spoken up for me, but his backside never once left that chair.
In a daze I made it to three the next afternoon.
Cliff pushed the door open, and behind him Hildegarde held his arm, poking her head in with a giggle.
"How's Star doing? My little goddaughter hasn't been giving you any trouble, has she?"
Cliff changed his shoes in the entryway and casually put the heels she'd stepped out of away in the closet.
He explained with a smile,
"Ran into Hildegarde right as I got out of the airport. She insisted she was worried and made a fuss about coming along to see you."
I gave him a perfunctory glance, no smile in my eyes.
When I'd first found out I was pregnant, I'd coaxed him to put my shoes away in the rack for me, and he'd been visibly annoyed. "You don't have hands, Erica? Your shoes are filthy, put them away yourself."
Cliff came over and patted my head.
"Being pregnant is hard work, sweetheart."
"I know you've always wanted a wedding, so I had Hildegarde use AI to make some wedding photos of us."
He pulled a stack of photos out of his briefcase and handed them to me.
"Once the baby's born, I promise I'll make it up to you."
I took them and flipped through. Hildegarde's face had been swapped for mine, everything else left untouched.
Really trying to fool me like an idiot.
I took a deep breath and looked up, right into his eyes.
"What kind of AI makes pictures this lifelike, right down to a mole on the girl's arm that's exactly the same as Hildegarde's?"
