The Husband Removed Our Son's Cornea By Himself

To my surprise, Adrian rushed toward the baby without even glancing in my direction. I thought he couldn’t wait to see our adorable child, or perhaps he was anxious about any health issues our baby might have. After all, it didn’t feel right to be jealous of my own baby, did it?

However, his expression shifted to one of confusion and distress. It was only when he began arguing with the nurse that I sensed something was terribly wrong. “Why is it a boy?” he demanded, his voice rising with panic. “It was supposed to be a girl! What have you done? Where’s my daughter?” The usually composed Adrian had lost his cool, shaking the nurse who was cradling our newborn. His loud questioning startled me, sending a ripple of fear through the room.

In the midst of the chaos, my mother-in-law intervened, stepping forward and slapping him across the face. It seemed to bring him back to reality, calming him down a bit, though I could see the turmoil still churning within him.

That night, Adrian disappeared. He didn’t visit me again during my entire stay at the hospital. When we finally returned home, the first thing that hit me was the overwhelming stench of alcohol wafting from his study. Adrian had clearly been drinking heavily and the sight broke my heart.

Adrian’s mother, usually so composed, stormed into his study and locked the door behind her. Through the thin walls, I could hear snippets of their argument, his voice laced with bitterness. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. The oracle said I’d have a daughter,” he argued, frustration spilling from every word. “Our baby was meant to look like her.”

Desperate to reach him, Adrian’s mother pleaded, “Why don’t you take a closer look at that child? Your son has beautiful eyes, Adrian. Just like hers.”

Finally, reeking of alcohol, Adrian entered the bedroom, picked up our son and examined him closely. Tears streamed down his face, mingled with laughter as he turned to me and said, “Lorie, our son has such beautiful eyes. They look just like yours.”

Adrian named our son Lorian Grant Hardy, a blend of our names—Lorie and Adrian—and included both our surnames as a testament to the strength of our love. In those early days, Adrian was a devoted father, always present for Lorian. No matter how exhausted he was from work, he never made me get up to feed our son at night until Lorian was over a year old.

When Lorian turned one, Adrian returned to that secluded spot in the countryside to fulfill his vow. Upon returning, he seemed much happier than before. That night, I overheard him on the phone, mentioning our son’s name repeatedly. He even said that Lorian’s birth was meant to pave the way for “Lorie” to come back, filling me with hope that our happiness would last forever.

However, everything changed when Lorian turned five. Adrian disappeared for another week. When he finally returned, he brought with him an eleven-year-old girl named Enid, who was blind and an orphan, a patient of Adrian’s.

Ever since Enid entered our lives, Adrian had been distant, hardly coming home. Lorian, missing his father, cried out for him, so I took him to the hospital. From a distance, I saw Adrian reading a bedtime story to Enid, who was nestled comfortably in his arms.

When our son saw him, he lit up with joy, dashing inside to greet his father. But within moments, Lorian emerged, his face streaked with tears. Adrian had sent him away.

It wasn’t long before Adrian followed, his face sour. He confronted me, scolding, “Why did you bring him here? I don’t have time to play with him. I’m busy. You both should go home.”

Then I heard the sound of crying from inside the ward. The girl was whimpering and Adrian rushed back in to calm her down. I thought my son must have been disruptive, perhaps dropping things or causing a scene, so I chose not to pursue the issue further and took Lorian home.

The next day, Adrian returned home, running straight to me without even taking off his shoes. He grabbed my hand, his eyes sparkling with urgency. “Lorie, why don’t we adopt Enid? This way, you wouldn’t have to go through the pain of childbirth again.”

I was completely taken aback by his sudden request, unsure how to respond. Seeing my silence, he embraced me gently, his expression softening. “Enid has no family left in this world. Plus, we’d be giving Lorian a sister and a playmate. Come on, Lorie. I really… really like her. I’m sure you’ll like her too.”