An Idiot Wife's Last Surprise

"What's wrong, baby? Are your legs cramping again?"

Seeing my tears, Ryan immediately put everything down, knelt, and gently massaged my swollen ankles.

“How’s my little guy doing today, Madison? Just hang in there. Only two more months until we finally get to meet him.”

He looked up, his gaze impossibly tender. "Is the coffee cold? The traffic must have been bad. Wait here, I'll go heat it up for you."

He picked up the coffee from the takeout box and walked toward the microwave.

My phone chimed with a notification. A new reply on the thread.

[My boyfriend made too much dessert, so I had him pack the rest for that woman at home. The coffee is what I didn't finish, can't let it go to waste. I picked the pink bag myself. Can't let my son go hungry.]

The pink bag on the table seared my eyes.

The tears wouldn't stop.

So, the foolish woman in the post, the one being played for a fool, really was me.

"Madison, it's all warmed up. Come, be careful, it's hot. Let me feed you."

Ryan emerged with the steaming coffee, that warm smile I had adored for five years playing on his face.

I stared at him, this man I thought I knew, and saw a monster wearing his skin.

We met through friends. He was a Vancouver native, a graduate from a prestigious university with a respectable job, sincere and down-to-earth.

We got together because on paper, we were a perfect match. But I fell for him in the quiet moments of our life together.

Every night after another failed attempt to conceive, he would gently comfort me.

The moment the IVF test showed two lines, he was even happier than I was.

I had naively thought our shared hope had earned us a miracle.

But it was all just a trap, set by this despicable couple.

I violently shoved away the cup he held to my lips. The brown liquid splattered onto his white sweatshirt, an ugly stain.

I met his gaze directly. “Ryan, what if there was a mistake during the embryo transfer? I want an amniocentesis.”

His hand, which was wiping his shirt, froze. A flicker of guilt crossed his face.

“Madison, have you been watching too much TV? How could that even happen? St. Paul’s has incredibly strict protocols. A mix-up like that is impossible.”

"But I'm scared. I had a nightmare that the baby wasn't ours! Ryan, if you love me, you'll take me to get it tested tomorrow."

He put down the cup, a flash of anxiety in his eyes.

"Madison, I'm worried it would be bad for you and the baby. You have to trust me, there's absolutely no way there was a mistake."

He pleaded with me, but I stubbornly insisted.

His phone rang. He glanced at the screen.

"Madison, there's a problem with a project. I need to take this call in the study."

He ducked into the study and closed the door.

Five minutes later, he came out, his brow relaxed.

"Madison," he walked over and took my hand, "since you're so scared, I'll go with you. Let's book the test now."

"Really? But just now you were…" I was a little surprised.

Ryan cut me off. "Madison, I love the baby, but I love you more. If you have doubts, then let's get the test done. Only when you're at ease can the baby grow up healthy."

I wondered what had made him suddenly change his mind.

On the way to the hospital, I found the answer in that post.