My Wife Had a Baby with Another Man, So I Got Remarried

Andrea got drunk one night and ended up pregnant with an intern’s child.

By the time I found out, she was already three months along.

She knelt before me, her face full of guilt, and begged, “Peter, I’m sorry. I drank too much that night during the business dinner and mistook him for you. I swear, it only happened once!”

“Please don’t be angry. Don't worry. I’ll abort the baby right away and send that man overseas. I won’t let him dirty your sight again.”

After ten years of loving Andrea, I believed her.

Six months later, I returned from a business trip and went to the hospital for a check-up—only to catch sight of the intern holding a heavily pregnant Andrea.

When she saw me, she instinctively shielded him behind her and said, “Peter... he’s still young, and I took his virginity that night... I have to take responsibility.”

“I may not be able to give him a proper title, but at least I want our baby to stay with him. For the sake of our years together, please don’t make things hard for him, okay?”

At that moment, as I looked at the woman I’d loved for a decade, for the first time—I felt nothing but disgust.

So I didn’t shout or cry. I just calmly replied, “Alright.”

Then I turned around and canceled the IVF procedure I had scheduled.

While waiting in line, I dialed a long-abandoned number.

“I’m ready for a new wife. Are you in?”

——

The person on the other end went silent for a while before speaking. “Are you serious?! Peter, don’t joke like that. You know I’ve waited for this day for so long.”

Inhaling sharply, I calmly replied, “I’m serious. Come to New Jersey in three days. Bring the household registration booklet.”

Right after I hung up, the hospital’s announcement system called my name.

“Mr. Crawford, your sperm count has returned to normal. You may proceed with IVF.”

Upon hearing that, what I had just seen in the corridor replayed in my mind like a broken record.

Andrea leaning naturally against that young intern, her face glowing with the joy of impending motherhood.

But the child inside her wasn’t mine.

Tears I’d been holding back welled up and finally fell. I shook my head.

“I’m not doing it anymore.”

“My wife... is already dead to me.”

The doctor gave me a sympathetic look but didn’t try to persuade me. He quietly canceled the procedure scheduled for two days later.

As I left the office, I passed by the ultrasound room. I saw Andrea lying on the exam bed as the intern kissed her belly.

She gasped, probably from the cold, then giggled and curled up in his arms. The doctor beside them chuckled and said, “You two make such a loving couple.”

Andrea nodded. “Yes, he’s young, but he takes such good care of me.”

The tenderness in her eyes as she spoke stabbed deep into my heart.

Once upon a time, she looked at me the same way. Now, all that love belonged to someone else.

I couldn’t bear to watch any longer. I turned and fled.

It wasn’t until I got into the car that the tears finally streamed down my cheeks in silence.

Andrea and I were teenage sweethearts. We built everything from the ground up, side by side.

We used to huddle together in a cramped ten-square-meter basement, dreaming of a future. She once swore she’d only ever love me.

I always knew women’s promises were fragile. But back then—I chose to believe her anyway.

Over the years, the company had finally found its footing. But due to long-term drinking from constant business entertainment, I was diagnosed with low sperm motility.

On the very first day of my treatment, I bumped into Andrea and that intern—in the obstetrics department.

She dropped to her knees and pleaded with me, saying it was all a drunken mistake.

At that moment, I forgot how to breathe. I bit down hard on my lip to stay conscious.

After a long silence, I forced the pain in my chest down and finally responded.