The Sterile Husband Who Hid a Child in the Mountains

My husband Allen often hiked in the mountains for weeks, several times a year. His trips always worried me.

So when my companywhich never sent office staff into the fieldassigned me to host a Happy Families hiking tour, I felt a secret thrill. Allen had left for the mountains three days earlier; maybe Id run into him.

My colleague handed me the tour list. "Stop grinning and check it. No mistakes."

I flipped through the names, then froze. There it was: Allen Bennett. Next to his name, a clear note:Traveling with wife, Sophia, and 8-year-old son

My colleague pointed. "Hes a regular. Comes twice a year with his family, like clockwork. See'Family suite required.' Theyre so devoted, right?"

Cold disbelief hit me.

Wed been married eight years. A doctor had said Allen was infertile. He always said he hated kids, that wed be child-free forever.

But there he was, kneeling to tie a shoelace for a stranger, while a little boyhis spitting imagebounced beside him. This was the same man who wouldnt wash a dish at home, now gently wiping sweat from the boys forehead.

It wasnt that he hated children. He just hated having them with me.

My colleague waved the group flag. "Snap out of it! Go welcome Mr. Bennett and his wife!"

...

"Anna?!" The color drained from Allen's face. He yanked his hand away from the womans, the movement so violent that the metal buckle on his backpack clanged loudly.

But the woman, Sophia, was perfectly composed. She smoothed her cuff, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face as she extended a hand to me.

"I've heard so much about you, Anna."

A diamond bracelet on her wrist flashed with a cold light in the sun. It was the matching piece to the one Id given Allen last year. My gaze fell to the wedding band on her ring finger, identical to mine, and my throat tightened.

The eight-year-old boy tugged on Allen's jacket, his almond-shaped eyes, a perfect copy of his father's, filled with confusion.

"Dad, who is this lady?"

That one word, "lady," pierced my heart like a poisoned arrow.

I suddenly remembered our anniversary last month. Allen, wearing the silk pajamas Id just bought him, had twirled a lock of my hair and whispered, "It's you and me forever. No kids, just us."

Ten years together. Eight years of marriage.

I had worked myself to the bone all these years, just to prove I wasn't after his family's money. Now I understood. It wasnt that he didnt want a child; he just didnt want my child.

The way he frantically tried to hide the boy behind him was more cutting than any words could ever be. I looked at him, a bitter laugh stuck in my throat, but he couldn't meet my eyes. Instead, he turned to my colleague, his voice sharp.

"Is this the kind of rude staff your company sends? Can't she even shake a hand?"

My colleague shot me a glare, grabbed my rigid hand, and forced it into Sophia's. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Bennett. Anna's new to this. Please forgive her."

Sophia's grip tightened, her nails digging into my skin, the sharp pain jolting me back to reality. "Allen talks about you all the time. It's so nice to finally meet." Her eyes held a familiar, triumphant hostility.

In that instant, I knew. This "coincidental" work assignment was no coincidence at all. It was a scene she had carefully orchestrated.

"Mr. Bennett, your wife and son's gear is all checked and ready," my colleague said from behind me, his voice oozing with eagerness to please. "Will you be taking your usual family suite?"

"Of course," Sophia said, a victorious smirk playing on her lips. "And remember to stock it with extra protection. The usual arrangement."

"Right away!" my colleague fawned. "Double the amount, just like always?"

Allen said nothing. He just stared at the ground, his eyelashes fluttering wildly. I knew him too well. After ten years, I knew his every twitch. That's what he always did when he was lying. His right eye would blink three times, and his left hand would start unconsciously fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

A dull ache spread through my chest. I stood there, numb, until my colleague led us into the mountain resort. The receptionist greeted Allen like an old friend.

"Welcome back, Mr. Bennett. Your favorite family suite is ready, complete with the rose petal service." She handed over three key cards. "I hope you and your family have a wonderful stay."

Sophia's hand rested possessively on Allen's waist while the boy chattered excitedly about going to the hot springs. And I stood in the corner, clutching my staff ID, a ridiculous, pathetic outsider.

"Anna," my colleague nudged me with his elbow. "Go help Mr. Bennett with his luggage." He lowered his voice. "He's a major client. What's wrong with you? Been in the office so long you've forgotten how to do your job?"

I silently pushed the luggage cart into their room. As I was closing the door, I heard a soft click.

Allen was waiting for me inside, sitting alone by the floor-to-ceiling window.

"Mr. Bennett," I heard my own voice, raw and rusted. "When did we get a divorce?"

His head snapped up, but his expression was calm, almost practiced. "Anna, you have to know, you're the only one I love."

He stood up, walking toward me. "The child... he was an accident. You have to believe me."

2

Listening to Allen's self-righteous tone, I wanted to laugh.

I remembered the medical report from before we were married. The words "blocked vas deferens" had made my heart ache so much I couldn't sleep all night. I told him it didn't matter, that having him was enough.

And now? He had a child with another woman behind my back and still had the audacity to act like he was the victim.

Ten years together. Eight years of marriage. Maybe he still had some affection for me, but it was nothing more than habit. The love had died long ago, replaced by the weary routine of just getting by.

"So," my voice was ice, "because you love me, you had a child with someone else, and I'm just supposed to be a happy stepmom?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I froze. That bitter, sarcastic tone... it was exactly how he sounded when he was losing patience with me. It turns out that when you live with someone long enough, you start to become them. The difference was, I had only ever spoken to him with kindness, never daring to say a harsh word.

He shoved me out of the room. "You're being irrational! You sound like a crazy person!"

A bitter smile touched my lips. All these years, I had forgiven him for being late, for forgetting anniversaries, for his temper tantrums. But this... this was like him slapping me across the face and then demanding I smile and offer my other cheek.

"Anna," his voice came through the crack in the door, still dripping with entitlement, "we've been together for so long. It was just one kid with someone else. Can't you be as understanding as you used to be?"

I stared at him in silence, my heart a gaping wound. How ironic. He'd made a fool of me for eight years, and he still thought he held the moral high ground.

"Fine," his voice turned cold. "If you won't listen to reason, then you can talk to my parents."

Before I could react, the door slammed shut with a bang, the force of it making the wedding photo locket I wore press, suddenly hot, against my chest.

Numbly, I pulled out my phone. The name on the screen, "Dad," felt like a splinter in my eye.

"Anna! What the hell do you think you're doing?" My father-in-law's roar exploded from the phone. "A man as good as our Allen married you. What more could you possibly want?"

I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning white. The reflection in the window showed a pathetic, broken woman.

"Dad..." My throat was tight. "You knew... you knew Allen had someone else!"

"Knew? Of course, we knew! It's just Sophia, what's the big deal?" My mother-in-law snatched the phone, her voice shrill. "You've been married to Allen for eight years and couldn't even lay a single egg! So what if he found someone who could? It's better than being stuck with a useless woman like you who can't even get pregnant!"

The hallway lights suddenly seemed blindingly bright, making spots dance in my vision.

I thought of all the times I'd gone to their house, arriving three hours early to buy the freshest ingredients from the market. I thought of last year when my father-in-law had surgery, and I stayed outside the ICU for seven straight days. I thought of how, every payday, the first thing I did was buy them expensive imported health supplements.

I had supported myself completely, yet I had to grovel in their home like the hired help, all because Allen's family was wealthier than mine.

"If it weren't for the fact that you're a quiet, simple girl," my mother-in-law rambled on, "we would have made Allen divorce you years ago! And now you have the nerve to blame my son? You should be thanking your lucky stars for getting a son for free!"

"Sophia's family is better than yours, she's younger than you... and you? You've gotten older, but not any smarter! You're not even worthy of polishing her shoes!" Her voice was a relentless torrent of insults. "At least Sophia could give Allen a child! Look at you!"

Suddenly, the trembling in my hand stopped.

So that was it. Everyone knew about this father and son. Everyone except me, the fool who had been kept in the dark for eight years.

Eight years.

I had slaved away for them, served them tea, waited on them by their sickbeds like a real daughter. And for what?

In their eyes, I would always be the poor girl who married up.

"I've had enough of this life. Let's get a divorce."

I cut her off calmly and ended the call.

The hallway light felt sharp now, illuminating the pathetic joke my life had been for the past eight years.

3

I took a deep, shuddering breath. So this is what it felt like to finally say "no" to my mother-in-law.

Composing myself, I called my lawyer. My voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like my own. "I need you to draw up divorce papers. As soon as possible."

The morning sun was piercing. Eight years of marriage flashed before my eyes: the coffee stain in the library when we first met, the tear on his cheek at our wedding, the eventual slide into perfunctory goodnight kisses, and the anniversaries he was always "out of town" for.

The perfect match I thought we were had only ever existed in my head.

I fled the mountain retreat, getting on the first bus back to the city. As the bus pulled away, I saw Sophia through the window, boarding with the child in her arms. The boy was asleep on her shoulder, his features so much like Allen's.

The engine rumbled, but Sophia walked straight down the aisle and took the empty seat next to me. "Anna. Fancy seeing you again."

I didn't even look at her, a cold sneer on my face. "What, feeling proud of being the other woman?"

"You're wrong, Anna." Sophia calmly adjusted her cuff, the identical wedding band on her finger glinting mockingly. "In love, there's no first-come, first-served. The one who isn't loved is the third wheel."

My nails dug into my palms, the metallic taste of blood spreading in my mouth.

"Do you know why Allen put up with you all these years, even though you're useless in bed? It's because he said you'd die without him. He'd rather suffer through the disgust of being with you than divorce you."

"You're a disgrace to women! How long has it been since you and Allen even slept together? A year? Two? Three?!"

She shoved her phone in my face. The intimate photos on the screen were like razors scraping against my retinas. Allen was wearing the suit I'd bought him for our third anniversary, the one he'd never even opened, posed in ways I had never seen in our entire marriage.

"Take a good look," she said, her fingertip maliciously tracing the flush on Allen's face. "See how your husband, the one who wouldn't even touch you, begs me to take him."

The date on the photos was a glaring stab to the heart. It was the day of my mother's funeral. He'd told me he had to entertain a client and couldn't be there for me.

My vision blurred, the images twisting and distorting. He looked so handsome in that black suit I'd given him, the one he'd tossed into the back of the closet with the tags still on.

Sophia kept swiping, each new photo a branding iron on my nerves. It wasn't that he had no libido; he just had none for me. He wasn't physically incapable; his body had just instinctively rejected me. Just like his parents did.

"This one's the best." She zoomed in on a close-up. Allen was wearing the jade pendant from our wedding. "He loves to clutch this when he climaxes. Says it feels like he's laughing at how pathetic you are."

That pendant. I had spent three days kneeling and sorting through stones at the jade market to find the perfect piece for him. He had promised to wear it for a lifetime.

The scenery outside the window blurred past, a perfect metaphor for my ridiculous eight-year marriage. I remembered our wedding day, how he'd stood on his toes to whisper in my ear, "I'm all yours for the rest of my life."

It turned out I was the one who had been taken for a ride all along.

The worst part wasn't the betrayal. It was realizing that every sweet memory was laced with poison. Every frown, every excuse, every time he was "too tired"it all made sense now.

Eight years. Over two thousand days and nights, I had been living inside an elaborate lie.

The bus entered a tunnel, and darkness swallowed everything. Good. This way, Sophia wouldn't see the woman she called a "disgrace" crying like a pathetic joke.