My Ex-husband Knelt Too Late

Olivia's pov 

"I'm sorry, Miss... But your husband can't father a child," Dr. Phillip said, placing the clinical folder onto his mahogany desk with a soft, heavy thud. "He's infertile."

The words hung in the sterile air of the examination room, suspended between us like a physical wall. I blinked, my mind fighting to grasp the sentence. 

"What?" I choked out. “Doctor... no. We've been trying for four years. His family... they keep telling me..."

Dr. Phillip folded his hands over the chart, his expression softening with genuine pity. "Your lab work, ultrasound, and hormone panels are completely clean. Your womb is perfectly healthy, Olivia. You are one hundred percent fertile. But Mr. Kelvin's tests show an extremely low sperm count. It is highly improbable that he will ever be able to father a child biologically."

A violent wave of shock surged through my chest.

I'm not barren.

"Are you... are you absolutely sure?" I whispered, my fingers clutching the fabric of my coat.

"Beyond a doubt, Olivia. I'm so sorry."

For four long, painful years, I had quietly swallowed the bitter remarks. Spent tearful nights in front of the mirror, pressing my hands against my lower belly, asking my body why it was failing the man I loved.

And all this time, it was never me.

A tight knot formed in my throat, choking back the sudden rush of tears. It was never me. I was never the problem. 

I swallowed hard. It was all Kelvin. 

After he stood by me all through it, how could I break his heart with news that would strip away his manhood? How could I hand him a piece of paper that would shatter his world?

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing a small, tight smile onto my face. "Thank you, Dr. Phillip. I... I will talk to him. I'll reach back to you later.”

I stood up on trembling legs, gathered my handbag, and pushed through the glass doors into the bright afternoon heat. 

I sighed heavily as I sat inside. I glanced into the backseat. Resting safely on the leather interior was a dark velvet box containing the custom-designed watch I had spent three months creating, complete with gold engravings on the back. 

Four years. We had survived four years, against all odds because of him. Now it's my turn to repay him. I would hold his secret. I would protect his pride. I was going to give him the best night of his life.

I started the engine and sped toward our suburban home. When I pulled into the driveway, I killed the engine and took a long, quiet breath. I grabbed the heavy velvet box, unlocked the front door with a quiet click, and stepped into the dim foyer.

"Kelvin?" I called out softly, humming under my breath as I set the gift box on the entryway console.

I turned around to slip off my heels, and the breath left my lungs in an instant.

The entire lower floor was already decorated.

Warm, flickering candles lined the dark hallway, and the dining table was elegantly laid out with warm food, crystal glassware, and an open bottle of red wine.

A sudden, overwhelming warmth burst in my chest. Tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. He remembered. He did all of this for me. 

Smiling through my tears, I bent down to kick off my shoes near the rack—and froze. Sitting right next to my slippers was a pair of strappy, cherry-red designer heels.

My heart gave a sickening, violent thud against my ribs. I knew those shoes. I had bought them myself three months ago as a birthday gift for Evelyn.

Why is Evelyn here?

She didn't tell me she was coming. Did she come to celebrate with us? 

I stepped onto the hardwood floor in my stocking feet, before a low, rhythmic creaking echoed from upstairs, followed by a thick, muffled moan. 

My breath froze. What was that?

I crept up the stairs, feeling my chest thud with every step. The master bedroom door was pulled to, leaving just a narrow crack. I leaned forward, pressing my eye against the gap.

The world tilted violently on its axis.

Kelvin was on his knees at the foot of our king-sized bed, his shirt unbuttoned, his chest slick with sweat, slamming himself into the woman beneath him with a brutal rhythm.

Evelyn.

Her long, manicured fingers were tangled in my silk sheets. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, her throat exposed in the golden light of our bedside lamps.

"Ah... fuck, Kelvin ..." Evelyn gasped, tossing her head back, her voice dripping with lazy pleasure. "What if your barren wife comes home early?"

Kelvin didn't slow down. He buried his face in her neck, letting out a rough, guttural groan that sent a wave of icy nausea straight up my throat. "She won't. She’s stuck at her office until six... God, Evelyn, you’re so much better than her…”

"Ofcourse. She'd never know how to handle you " Evelyn giggled.

"Don't even go there." Kelvin growled. “She’s like sleeping with a damn corpse."

A hot, suffocating surge of bile hit the back of my mouth. I slammed my hand over my face, my vision spotting with blinding white dots.

Four years. I had given up my career, signed a contract, and lived like a ghost in his house to pay for Evelyn’s life. I had spent every day trying to be enough, trying to love him, holding onto the hope that one day he would see me as a real wife. I loved them both. I would have given my life for either of them.

And they were destroying me on the bed I made every single morning.