My Husband’s Student Surrogate

Ive been an OB-GYN for ten years. Ive delivered thousands of babies, and finally, I was pregnant with my own.

On our anniversary, Id planned to leave the hospital early to celebrate with my husband. But a last-minute emergency surgery landed on my schedule.

The patient was youngbarely twenty, a college student whod taken a leave of absence to have this baby. She wasn't due for another few weeks, but her water had broken prematurely, and the umbilical cord was wrapped around the infants neck. We had to go straight to a C-section.

"Dr. Brooks, Im scared," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I had a nightmare last night. I dreamed that after the baby was born, you stuffed her back inside me... that you let her suffocate."

I gave her a small, professional smile to calm her nerves. "Im not that's not how this works. Dont be nervous. I promise Ill get both you and your baby through this safely."

The delivery went perfectly. It was a girl, with a cry so loud it filled the entire OR.

I placed the baby on her chest for skin-to-skin contact. The girl pressed her cheek against the infants, her eyes damp as she whispered her thanks to me. The nurses hurried out to give the family the good news, and I stepped aside with the baby for a moment, waiting for the final sutures.

The girl suddenly spoke, a weak but provocative smile flitting across her lips.

"Maam... the baby looks just like Professor Miller, doesn't she?"

...

My head spun. The blood in my veins seemed to turn to ice instantly.

Then, Christopher Miller walked into the OR, still in his surgical scrubs.

The girl immediately began to sob piteously. "Chris... why are you just getting here?" she wailed. "I dont want anyone else touching me. I was so scared. Dr. Brooks was so mean to me."

Christopher rushed to her side, his voice a low, soothing murmur that felt like a serrated blade to my heart. "Its okay, honey. Dont cry. Im here now. No one is going to hurt you."

Then, he turned a cold, dismissive gaze toward me. "Ill handle the closing. Take the baby and get out. Shes young; I need to make sure the scarring is minimal."

I dont know how I made it out of that room.

The weight of my colleagues' shocked, gossiping stares felt like needles in my back. Their whispers were low, but in the sterile silence of the hallway, they hit me with perfect clarity.

"What does that mean? Is that girls baby Dr. Brooks' husband's? Did Natalie know?"

"Theyve been together since high school. Theyre the 'it' couple. Theres no way."

"Please. You never know what goes on behind closed doors. Maybe its some twisted arrangement. Maybe shes in on it."

...

I stripped off my scrubs, my skin drenched in a cold, sickly sweat. Sophie, one of my residents, helped me back to the breakroom.

"Dr. Brooks..." She started to speak, but she didn't know what to say. Eventually, she just started crying out of sheer indignation on my behalf.

I managed a hollow laugh and told her to go back to work. I needed to be alone.

I sat there, my hand trembling as I touched my still-flat stomach. The tears finally broke. Just a week ago, when I saw the positive test, I had wept with joy. I had been waiting for tonightour anniversaryto give him the surprise.

But I was the one who got the surprise first.

Months ago, Id found a scrap of paper in his pocket with a list of names. I had assumed, naturally, that they were for our future child. Id even teased him about it: I thought you said we were letting nature take its course? Youre clearly dying to be a dad. I think 'Everly' is the prettiest one on the list.

During the surgery, when I heard the girl whisper that name, I had told myself it was just a coincidence.

The door pushed open. Christopher walked in, his face shadowed and grim. The silence stretched between us until he finally spoke.

"Im sorry, Natalie. I didn't know how to tell you. I didn't want to break your heart."

"Brianna is an orphan," he continued, his voice devoid of the warmth hed just shown her. "She was abandoned at birth. She couldn't bring herself to terminate the pregnancy, and I couldn't force her to."

"Moving forward, Ill have to split my time between you and them. But youre my wife. Youll always be my priority. That will never change."

I let out a jagged, hysterical laugh. My teeth were chattering. "When... when did it start? Why?"

He looked out the window, his tone light, almost nostalgic. "Almost two years ago. Being with her is just... easy. Its fun. I couldn't help myself. She made me feel that rush againthe racing heart, the heat in my blood."

"Natalie, weve been together for twenty years. Thats a very long time."

He didn't finish the sentence, but he didn't have to. Because it had been so long, the fire had gone out. But for me, the time had been even longer than that.

When I was in the third grade, my father went back to prison. My mother didn't say a word; she just packed a bag and left me behind. My only relatives were two aunts who treated me like an unwanted piece of luggage, kicking me back and forth between their houses.

I grew up in the shadows of other people's homes, living in constant fear. When I was ten, my uncle tried to put his hands on me in the middle of the night. I cracked his head open with a heavy lamp.

The scandal was massive. My aunts called me a "little slut" and decided to ship me off to foster care.

It was Christophers motherwho was also my teacherwho took me in.

In those early days, I would hide in the laundry room and cry. Christopher would find me and press a piece of chocolate into my hand without a word.

At seventeen, I thought he was seeing someone else and spent a week acting out in a jealous fit. He demanded to know what was wrong until I broke down in tears. He looked at me with such helpless devotion and pulled me into his arms.

At twenty-seven, we married. At the altar, his hands shook so hard he could barely slide the ring onto my finger. He choked up during his vows.

"Natalie, we have so many decades left. I dreamed about us last nighttwo old people with white hair, walking hand in hand. I think thats God's promise to us."

Only one decade had passed. I didn't have a single gray hair yet. And he had already traded our "forever" for a girl who made his heart race.

Christophers phone buzzed. He glanced at me, muttered a quick "stop crying," and walked out.

I laughed until I felt sick. A violent wave of nausea hit me, my internal organs twisting in a knot of physical grief.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. Christopher pulled me up by my arm.

"I need you to go in there and calm her down," he said.

He dragged me toward the maternity ward. I felt every eye in the hospital tracking us.

Brianna Scott was pale, looking fragile in her recovery bed. Her face and neck were flushed a deep, blotchy red from crying. She looked utterly pitiable.

"Dr. Brooks, Im so sorry," she sobbed. "I really didn't know the extent of your relationship with Professor Miller."

"The baby has nothing to do with him. Ill raise her myself. I won't come between you ever again."

"Chris, please apologize to your wife. Beg for her forgiveness."

Christopher wiped her tears with a tenderness that made me want to scream. Then, Brianna did something insane. Ignoring her fresh surgical incision and the IV lines, she scrambled out of bed and dropped to her knees on the cold tile.

Her face contorted in genuine pain. "I'm sorry, Natalie! It was me. I seduced him. Blame me, hit me, do whatever you wantjust please, don't hurt my baby. Shes innocent..."

Christopher looked like his heart was shattering. He lifted her back into bed and then roared at me, "Natalie, say something! Are you a statue?"

I just looked at him and smiled. It was the only thing I had left.

He grabbed my wrist, his face a mask of irritation. "Is it that hard to be human? Shes just a girl. she just gave birth. Why do you have to be so cruel?"

My phone began to vibrate incessantly. I yanked my arm away from him. It was the Chief of Medicine. He wanted to see me in his office. Immediately.

My stomach dropped. I knew this wasn't good.

"Natalie," the Chief said, sighing heavily as I entered. "A formal complaint reached the Board. Theyre accusing you of abuse of power and professional misconductspecifically, that you used a medical procedure to intimidate a student."

"Well investigate, obviously. But the promotion to Associate Chief? Thats off the table for now. You need to take a few weeks of administrative leave. Let the dust settle."

I clenched my fists and walked back to Briannas room.

"Christopher, is this the plan? You won't be happy until youve destroyed my entire life?"

He knitted his brows, his expression cool and detached. "I have no idea what youre talking about."

I trembled with a mix of fury and sorrow. "Why here? Why did you bring her to my hospital? Why did you make medeliver her child?"

"This hospital has the best OB-GYN department in the city," he said calmly. "The baby was high-risk. I wasn't going to gamble with their lives. As for the surgery... that was just luck of the draw."

I nodded, biting my lip so hard I tasted blood. "Fine. But what about you? If this goes public, what happens to your tenure? Her reputation? Youre throwing it all away."

He pushed his glasses up his nose, considering his words. "I turned in my resignation a month ago. A friend of mine, Marcus, asked me to join his private surgical group. Hes giving me equity."

"And Brianna? Shes already transferred to a different university. Ill continue to mentor her there."

I started to clap. I couldn't help it. "Bravo. Im the only one who didn't get the memo. I'm the only one left standing in the ruins."

Christophers face darkened with shame-induced anger. "I should have consulted you. If you can't handle this, then fine. We get a divorce."

"We don't have kids. Ill give you the house and the car. Whatever else you want, just name it."

A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my lower abdomen. I let out a long, cold peal of laughter.

"Why would I make this easy for you? You want me to step aside so you can play house? In your dreams."

After we got married, we were both so busy with our residencies that we wanted to enjoy being a couple for a while. We didn't rush into parenthood.

Three years ago, we started trying.

We saw every specialist in the city. There was nothing physically wrong with either of us, but I just couldn't get pregnant. The pressure became an obsession. I tested myself every single morning. Once, I even had a phantom pregnancyall the symptoms, the morning sickness, the missed periodonly to find out it was my mind playing tricks on me.

When the blood finally came, I cried for three days.

Christopher held me, his own eyes red. "Remember that dream I told you about? The one where we were old? There were no kids in that dream, Natalie. Maybe this is just the way its supposed to be. Maybe the universe doesn't want anyone coming between us."

So, we stopped trying. We let it go. We chose "us."

And now, the baby had finally come, but the "us" was gone.

The room began to tilt. I felt lightheaded, my legs turning to water. Christopher reached out to steady me, leaning in close. His voice was a low hiss in my ear.

"Lets just end this quietly, Natalie."

"I got a call from back home yesterday. Your father was paroled. Hes looking for you."

A chill ran down my spine. It wasn't just the thought of my father finding meit was the fact that Christopher was the one telling me.

When I was in high school and my father got out of prison the first time, he stayed clean for six months before the gambling debts piled up. He tried to "sell" me to a local businessman to clear his tab.

Christopher had broken down the door. Hed seen me tied to a chair, and he had gone primal. Hed nearly killed my father with a baseball bat.

Now, the person he was protecting had changed. He was using the man who traumatized me as a bargaining chip.

My heart finally turned to ash. I hadn't eaten all day, and the stress was too much. The world went black.

"Natalie!"

I heard him calling my name. When I woke up, his hand was resting on my forehead. His brow was furrowed with that familiar, worried look. For a split second, I thought this was all just a fever dream.

Then, he pulled the divorce papers out of his bag.

"Sign them. Brianna won't stop crying. I need to go be with her. Stress is bad for her recovery."

I took the pen. I read every page. He was giving me seventy percent of our assets. It was more than fair.

I was about to sign when he suddenly pressed his hand over mine. Outside, a commotion erupted. The door was kicked open.

A gaunt, hollow-eyed man burst in.

"Baby girl!"

It was my father. He rushed to my side, grabbing my hand with a mock-devotion that made my skin crawl.

I looked at Christopher, horrified. He looked away, his expression a guilty knot of conflicting emotions. He reached out to pull my father back.

My father dropped to his knees, slapping his own face. "I know I messed up, Natalie. Im a new man. Im going to make it up to you."

Then his eyes lit up with a predatory gleam. "Wheres my grandbaby? Let me see the little princess!"

He saw the divorce papers on the bed and snatched them up, tearing them to shreds.

"So what if your womb is broken? The man had to find a backup. Its all the same once theyre grown. Youre the wife; you need to show some grace."

I felt like I was going to vomit. "Christopher... is this what you want?"

He wouldn't look at me. "If you could just accept them... it would be for the best."

His face was becoming a blur. I wiped the tears away before they could fall.

"Ill do it. Ill do it, Dr. Brooks. Ill give you the baby, as long as you promise to be a good mother to her."

Brianna had appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame for support. Christopher rushed to her side, his voice frantic with concern. "What are you doing out of bed? Do you want your stitches to pop? Think about your health!"

A crowd had gathered in the hallway. People were holding up phones, filming the scene. Christopher roared at them to get out.

The lenses were inches from my face. My head throbbed. In a moment of pure, reflexive habit, I looked to Christopher for protection.

I only saw his back. He was wrapping his jacket around Briannas face to shield her from the cameras as he led her away.

I looked at the scar on his forearmthe one from the burn. I remembered how hed come home two years ago, complaining about a "clumsy student" whod spilled boiling water. "She started crying before I could even say anything," hed said. "I ended up having to comfort her."

Hed started keeping a little wooden rabbit charm on his keychain around then. Brianna had a tattoo of rabbit ears in the exact same spot on her arm.

I had been so blind. I had trusted him with my life.

I leaned over the side of the bed and retched.

My father grabbed a camera from a bystander and smashed it on the floor. He picked up a chair, waving it around.

"Who wants to mess with my daughter? I just got out of the pen! My daughter and her husband have moneythey can have as many babies as they want, however they want! Its none of your business!"

I closed my eyes, wishing the earth would swallow me whole.

Security finally arrived and cleared the room. My father turned to me with a greasy smile. "Did I say the wrong thing again, honey?"

The story exploded.

Before I could even leave the hospital, I was cornered by a mob of reporters. Microphones were shoved into my face.

"Dr. Brooks, is it true youre unable to conceive and hired a student as a surrogate?"

"Did your husband fall in love with the surrogate? Do you have any regrets?"

"As an OB-GYN, how do you justify the ethical breach of using a student for your own reproductive needs?"

...

Two hours later, "Renowned OB-GYN's Illegal Surrogacy Scandal" was trending. The internet was a cesspool of vitriol.

The hospital board called me back in. Christopher denied the surrogacy, but his version of the truth was even worse. He claimed our marriage had been over for years, that I had filed for divorce and then refused to sign the final papers out of spite.

The hospital issued a formal statement clearing me of medical malpractice, but the public didn't care. They saw a cover-up. Someone leaked my father's criminal record, using his "thug" persona as proof of my own "wickedness."

Protestors showed up at the hospital with banners. I was fired that afternoon.

My phone number and home address were leaked. Every time I turned on my phone, I was met with death threats. My front door was splashed with red paint; someone left a dead rat on my porch.

I tried to post a clarification on social media. It only invited more abuse.

I spent the night curled on a hotel bathroom floor, the darkness of my thoughts turning toward a permanent exit.

But Christopher found me. He forced me to go back to the small apartment he had rented for Brianna. It was decorated with photos of the two of them.

"Stay here for a while. Turn off your phone," he said, his tone incredibly casual. "In a week or two, theyll find something else to talk about."

"If youre embarrassed to go back to the hospital, don't. Our friend Sarah has been trying to get you to join her private clinic for years."

"You need to keep busy. You can help Brianna with the baby."

Every word was a fresh puncture wound. He talked as if he hadn't just burned my world to the ground.

"Im not a nanny, Christopher. And I still have my dignity."

I signed the new set of divorce papers and walked out.

A month later, Christopher called me to meet at the courthouse to finalize everything. But instead, he directed me to a hotel ballroom.

The sign outside read: Everly Millers One-Month Celebration.

"Lets just have lunch first," he said. "We can go to the courthouse afterward."

Brianna was there, radiant in a silk dress. She saw me and walked over, holding the baby.

"Natalie, you came! Look, shes smiling at you. You were the first person she saw in this world. I hope she grows up to be as beautiful as you."

The room went quiet. I could hear the whispers of the guests.

"Thats the ex? Shes actually quite striking."

"Doesn't matter how she looks if shes barren. No wonder he left."

...

Brianna smiled, extending the baby toward me. "Please, Natalie. Hold her. We wouldn't be here without your... sacrifice."

I stepped back instinctively.

She stepped forward, pushing the baby into my space. I kept backing away until I hit the top of the stairs. My heel caught on the carpet.

I tumbled.

The world blurred into a series of sharp impacts. I landed at the bottom, my hands clutching my abdomen. A hot, wet sensation spread through my clothes.

Christopher saw the blood, and his face went white.

"Natalie?"