The Sperm Donation That He Regretted

The moment I find out about my pregnancy, a notification from Twitter is displayed on my phone.

Apparently, it's a tweet posted by my husband, Don Romano Caliendo's childhood friend, Teresa Fiorino.

"Thanks to your sperm, I get to have a child of my own during the last stage of my life."

The accompanying photo is a pregnancy test that clearly states that the sperm donor is Romano.

I leave a question mark in the comment section. In just half a minute, my phone begins ringing loudly.

Romano's angry voice bursts from the loudspeakers immediately. I've only heard him adapt such a tone whenever he gets mad at others during family meetings.

"What did you mean by that comment, Selene Gardo? Teresa is dying from cancer! All she wants is to have a baby to keep her company before she breathes her last! Don't you have any sympathy for her at all?"

Before I can put down my phone, my Twitter homepage gets refreshed.

This time, Teresa has uploaded another photo. It features a luxurious deluxe-style apartment, where the floor-to-ceiling windows showcase the breathtaking cityscape of Brindleport at night.

The caption reads, "Thank you for giving me a home so that I don't feel lonely in my final days."

In a corner of the photo, Romano can be seen crouching on the floor while piecing a baby cot together. His side profile shows how focused he is on the task.

As I wipe my tears from the corners of my eyes, I silently caress my flat belly, which has yet to show any changes.

I'll take you far, far away from here, my dear baby.

Early the next morning, my husband, Don Romano Caliendo, returned home.

Carrying a paper bag, he pushed open the bedroom door with a sheepish, placating smile on his face.

"Amore, I made you some cream of mushroom soup myself. Give it a try."

The scent of his childhood friend Teresa Fiorino's perfume clung to him. A single whiff was enough to make my throat tighten.

"Just leave it there."

Romano didn't notice anything was wrong. He leaned in, bringing the bowl to my face. "Drink it while it's hot. I've been simmering it for two hours."

The aroma alone told me it was indeed his cooking.

Three months ago, I would have accepted it with a smile and stood on my tiptoes to kiss him.

Now, my husband stood before me looking for credit while reeking of another woman.

"I'm not hungry," I said, turning my head away.

Romano's hand froze in midair. His tone was filled with displeasure as he said, "Enough, Selene Grado. You weren't like this before. I've already humbled myself to appease you. What more do you want?

"Teresa cried and begged me. She said her biggest regret in life was never getting to be a mother. She's dying, Selene. Can't I even let her have this one wish?"

"So, you got her pregnant?" My tears finally broke free.

Romano's irritation only grew. "I didn't sleep with her. It was just a sperm donation. Must you really pick a fight with a dying woman? It's downright vicious!"

Finally, he turned and slammed the door behind him, leaving me with a parting shot. "Cool off and get a grip!"

A moment later, my phone buzzed. Teresa had sent me a photo. In it, Romano was sitting on her couch, looking more relaxed than I had seen him in months.

The follow-up message came quickly. "Selene, Romano says he's much more comfortable here than at home. The truth is, he's had feelings for me for a long time. He was just too polite to say it because of you. If you have any dignity left, you'll leave on your own."

As I stared at the screen, my grip tightened until my knuckles turned white.

In the beginning, Romano told me Teresa had been diagnosed with cancer. Her parents had died for his family, so he couldn't just turn his back on her.

I nodded and told him it was the right thing to do.

Back then, he really was just looking after her. He took her to the hospital, found her doctors, and brought her the occasional meal.

Then, things changed.

On my birthday, he told me, "Teresa says she's scared to be home alone. I'll go stay with her for a bit and catch up with you later."

When I was sick, he said Teresa was at the grocery store and afraid to walk home in the dark, so he'd let the household staff look after me.

Later, Teresa's "fears" multiplied—fear of the dark, fear of thunder, and even fear of eating alone.

Every single time, Romano dropped everything to go to her.

And I went from being his top priority to being told to "wait a second".

"Wait a second. I need to go be with Teresa.

"Wait a second, her situation is special.

"Just wait a second. Why are you being so difficult?"

I waited a thousand times, and the reward for my patience was another woman carrying my husband's child.

I remembered our wedding day. Romano held my hand as we walked out of the church. The sun hit his face as he leaned in and whispered, "Selene, I'll never make you cry for as long as I live."

I believed him then.

Now…

I touched my stomach, and the tears fell again. "I'm sorry, baby. I might not be able to give you a complete family."

Once I composed myself, I called my father, Erico Grado. "Papa, I want to leave."

…

The next morning, I went alone to a private hospital in Brindleport.

The moment the elevator doors opened, I saw them. At the end of the hall, right outside the ultrasound room, Romano was carefully guiding Teresa out.

Teresa was cradling her slightly rounded belly with a soft smile on her face.

They looked like a real husband and wife.

I stood frozen. My nails were digging into my palms.

"Selene?" Romano spotted me first. He looked stunned.

"What are you doing here? Are you sick?"

His brow furrowed as he let go of Teresa and strode toward me.

"Where does it hurt? Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

His concern seemed genuine, but seeing Teresa clutching her stomach over his shoulder made my chest ache.

"It's nothing. Just a routine checkup," I replied.

Romano let out a sigh of relief, which quickly turned back into a frown.

"Selene, I know you're upset, but was it really necessary to come here? Teresa was so nervous about her prenatal check-up that she didn't sleep all night. Can you please not cause trouble?"

"I'm causing trouble?" I looked up at him. "Romano, do you own this hospital? You're allowed to be here, but I'm not?"

"You—"

Teresa looked disgruntled. "Romano, does Selene hate the fact that I'm carrying your baby that much? She actually followed us here…"

She didn't raise her voice, but it was just loud enough for the nurses and patients' families to hear.

Several gazes landed on me at once—curious, sympathetic, and eager for the spectacle.

"Never mind," Teresa said suddenly. Her face was a mask of anguish. "Don't blame Selene. It's all my fault.

"I shouldn't have posted that photo on Twitter, and I shouldn't have asked you to come with me… I'll just go home by myself so I don't cause any more misunderstandings."

As she said that, she made a show of clutching her stomach as if she were about to leave.

Romano immediately grabbed her arm. His voice was sharp with worry. "Where do you think you're going? No one is blaming you."

Then, he turned back to me with a cold gaze. "Selene, if you have a shred of decency, you'll go home. I'll talk to you after Teresa finishes her appointment."

Looking at his self-righteous expression, I suddenly laughed. "Romano, I'm here at the obstetrics department."

I spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. "Don't you want to know why I'm here?"

His eyes grew wide. Instinctively, his gaze dropped to my stomach.