Two months after divorcing my wife, I found her sitting alone in a hospital hallway wearing a patient gown

Really looked at me.

“The clinic

called while I was in the middle of the divorce paperwork. They said there was a problem with the consent forms. They said something had been preserved from one of the procedures after the miscarriage.”

My breath caught.

What are you saying?”

She swallowed hard.

“I’m saying I don’t know exactly what exists. I was too overwhelmed to follow up. Then the diagnosis got worse, and I told myself it didn’t matter anymore.”

“It matters,” I said.

Her face crumpled.

“I know.”

Before either of us could say more, there was a knock at the door.

Dr. Keller stepped inside, holding a sealed envelope.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” he said, glancing between us. “Sophie, the fertility clinic returned my call.”

Sophie’s hand flew to her mouth.

Dr. Keller looked at me, then back at her.

“I think both of you need to hear this.”

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