My Husband’s IVF Affair With His Secretary

The intense contractions had me teetering on the edge of consciousness, writhing in pain. Just before I was wheeled into the delivery room, the nurse quietly asked the now hurriedly arriving Dominick:

"Mr. Lopez, would you like to be in the delivery room for the birth?"

"It can be a very painful process, and having you there might help ease her mind."

My eyes burned with tears, almost forcing them shut. Through the haze, I could only make out the slight downturn of Dominick's lips.

"I think I'll stay out. I... I tend to faint at the sight of blood. It's not really my thing."

He quickly let go of my hand, wiping the blood from his fingertips on the sheets with a look of distaste. He stepped back several paces, terrified of encountering more blood.

Besides his fear of blood, Dominick also had severe OCD. Consequently, we rarely shared any intimate moments over the years as a couple. I never tried to force him to change.

When I was six weeks pregnant, noticing the chill in the air, I took a coat to his office. There, I stumbled upon Dominick in a compromising position with his secretary, Anne Simpson.

Through the blinds, I saw him accept a chocolate from Anne's lips, his expression relaxed and amused. He even teasingly remarked:

"Anne, the chocolate tastes sweeter when you feed it to me. Maybe next time I should try some other treats?"

I was completely stunned, holding my breath, as the coat slipped from my grasp to the floor.

For someone who had only been with the company for a few months, he showed such indulgence to Anne Simpson. All these years, for Dominick's sake, even simple gestures like holding hands required preemptive sterilization.

It's laughable how selective his OCD truly was. Watching Dominick's figure grow indistinct, I said nothing further, simply shutting my eyes and letting the tears stream down my cheeks.

In the delivery room, over the course of more than ten hours, I fainted multiple times from exhaustion, only to be forcefully awakened by the doctors. The searing pain continued relentlessly, numbing my senses.

In my mind, Dominick's words from his proposal echoed:

"Bridget, you've always looked out for me. Let me be there for you now, okay?"

"I'll give you the happiness you've always wanted. I'll... be your happiness."

This man, who promised to stand by me no matter what, now waited outside the operating room.

Isn’t it ironic how all of this stems from his actions?

I woke again, unaware of how many times it had happened, to the sound of a baby's cry marking the end of my long ordeal. With a sigh of relief, I finally gave into total exhaustion and drifted into sleep, barely acknowledging the newborn.

The arrival of this new life brought me no joy. Like Dominick Lopez, he symbolized a future I intended to leave behind. Besides freedom, there was nothing else I desired.