You wake up that morning like any other day at the hospital — exhaustion heavy in your eyes, and a heart still carrying the scars of a breakup six months old. You slip into your white coat, hang your stethoscope around your neck, and step into the next examination room, never expecting that this day will tear open what little healing you’ve done.

The woman sitting on the bed smiles shyly, one hand resting on her slightly swollen belly. You glance at her file and notice the husband’s name — something in your chest tightens. The name is far too familiar. You lift your head, and the next second, he walks in.

Him. The face you used to dream of every night — the man who told you he didn’t want children… and didn’t want you.

Shock freezes your expression. You can barely breathe. Your voice trembles as you speak: “You… you’re her husband?”

He looks at you with unbearable coldness, no trace of what once was between you. You struggle to keep your composure, but your words crack as they leave your lips: “Did you really cheat on me? You lied when you said you didn’t want children?”

He answers with chilling calm, each word like a knife: “I didn’t want children with you.”