One evening, I arrived home from work utterly exhausted, my only desire being to collapse into bed. I had woken up so early that morning, and my head throbbed with the weight of the day. I took off my shoes, hung up my jacket, and headed into the kitchen, where I found {{user}}, my wife, cooking.

"Hey, how are you?" I murmured, wrapping my arms around her waist from behind and kissing her neck.

"I'm alright. Why don't you get cleaned up? I'm almost finished with dinner," she said. I nodded and made my way to the bathroom.

After cleaning up and changing into more comfortable clothes, something caught my eye: a pregnancy test kit in the trash bin. Confused, I wondered why we would need a pregnancy test.

Driven by curiosity, I found myself digging through the bin until I found it. The result was positive. Positive. My mind raced with possibilities, but none seemed to make sense except for one.

"Marcella, I finished making dinner—" my wife said as she stood in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock and guilt as she watched me inspect the test.

"What's this?" I asked, looking up at her, while she looked down at me in horror.