Professor Husband and Genius Friend Want My Baby, I Refuse

The day I gave birth, the pain nearly killed me.

My husband, the professor, was busy discussing with his genius friend exactly when our baby should be born to come out smartest.

The doctor pressed him to sign the consent form.

The cervix is fully dilated. She has to deliver now.

His friend looked at the fetal monitoring data and suddenly shook her head.

"Wait another six hours."

"A baby born at that time develops optimal intelligence."

I grabbed my husband's hand.

"I can't take it anymore. Let me deliver."

His friend frowned.

"We're deciding the course of this child's entire life. Can you stop thinking only about yourself?"

My husband pulled his hand back and spoke to the doctor.

"Use the suppressant first."

The contractions were forced back down.

But the pain kept dragging me in and out of consciousness.

Six hours later, the heartbeat stopped.

The doctor said the baby hadn't made it.

I looked at my husband, falling apart.

He only glanced at the report.

"Couldn't even last six hours. That means it wasn't good enough to begin with."

His friend nodded, just as calm.

"Survival of the fittest. An inferior child was never worth bringing into the world."

They bent their heads and went on studying the best time for my next conception.

They didn't see me slide off my wedding ring and lay it on the cold, bloodied body of my child.

This husband, this marriage,

I didn't want any of it anymore.

1.

I sat alone in the hospital corridor until night, unable to complete the admission paperwork.

All because Valentine Gilbert had been in a rush to get Joanna Pierce to her review presentation,

and he'd walked off with all my documents and my wallet.

The nurse asked several times where my family had gone.

I kept calling and couldn't get through, so I could only press my lips together and say quietly, "He's busy."

A little after ten at night, Valentine hurried in.

"Sorry."

Seeing me sitting in the empty waiting area, he looked, rarely, a little guilty.

"During the review this afternoon, one of the senior figures in the field kept giving Joanna a hard time."

"I was busy helping her explain her data, and for a while I forgot you were still at the hospital."

I closed my eyes for a moment and said nothing.

The anesthetic had worn off long ago.

My lower abdomen throbbed in waves.

Bracing myself on the edge of the bed, I struggled to stand.

Just as I reached for his arm to steady myself, he suddenly pushed my hand away. "You can't."

Caught off guard, I dropped hard back into the chair.

The incision tore with a jolt of pain, and my face went white in an instant.

He looked at me, guilty and perfectly earnest.

"Joanna ran the numbers for us again."

"The fifth of next month is the most suitable time to conceive. The best conditions for the baby's brain development."

"Joanna says you can't touch me during this period, to keep your postpartum hormones from running too high and throwing off the optimal window."

I stared at him, and for a moment I honestly didn't know what to say.

After a long silence, I asked,

"Our child died today. I'm still bleeding right now."

"And you're discussing with my friend how I should have the next one?"

He explained it to me in earnest.

"Joanna said it was only placental tissue, not really a child. She predicted you'd make a scene over the baby, so she asked me to tell you not to grieve over something that was never alive."

"We're doing this for your sake too. Reviewing this failure so we can avoid it next time."

I looked at him, and my heart went cold, bit by bit.

I used to tell myself he simply didn't understand feelings by nature, that he wasn't cold on purpose.

But in that moment, I suddenly didn't want to make excuses for him anymore.

"Let's get a divorce."

His expression stopped.

"What?"

"I said, I want a divorce."

"I'm not going to hand myself and my children over to you two as lab rats for your super-baby experiments anymore."

His face turned cold at once, and he questioned me, wounded.

"What do you mean? What do you mean, lab rats?"

"Joanna and I did it for you and the baby! How can you say that about us?"

I laughed, and the tears fell anyway.

"You made me hold on for six hours, and a baby that could have been born safely suffocated inside me."

"My baby just died, and I'm still bleeding! And the two of you have already scheduled when I'll get pregnant next?"

"This is for my sake?"

"Enough."

His eyes went red with anger as he looked at me.

"She's one of the best obstetricians in the country."

"People line up begging for her help with a birth plan and never get it."

"She was willing to spend all that time running the numbers for you, and instead of being grateful, you twist it into something this malicious?"

I stared at him blankly as his resentment grew.

"Especially today."

"With the doctors and nurses right there, you cried and carried on insisting on delivering. You made it look like she was deliberately trying to hurt you."

"Do you have any idea how upset that made Joanna? Because of you, she kept losing focus during the review this afternoon, and she got cornered several times!"

So even now.

What he cared about was still whether Joanna was upset.

His phone rang. He glanced down at it.

The coldness on his face faded in an instant.

"Hello?"

I couldn't hear what the other end said.

He immediately picked up his coat.

"The review draft?"

"Okay, wait for me."

"I'll come over now and go through it with you."

He turned and left, and just as the door was about to close,

he suddenly stopped and strode back toward me.

My heart gave a foolish little leap, thinking he'd finally remembered me.

He came back to the bedside.

"I've been very busy lately. I can't come to the hospital to take care of you. Why don't you come home with me to recover?"

I froze, and he went on,

"Once we're back, make a pot of that nourishing soup for Joanna."

"She always gets too nervous to eat before a big presentation. Your soup is the only thing she can manage even a little of."

"It's so late. She's definitely skipped dinner again to keep revising the review draft. Tomorrow's presentation is important. She can't do it on an empty stomach."

I looked at him, and suddenly I laughed.

He worried his best friend would be nervous tomorrow, worried she'd go hungry, and he remembered she loved a nourishing homemade soup.

But he never noticed

that I'd lain alone in that hospital for a full day.

My lips had long since cracked, gone pale,

and my empty stomach kept twisting in on itself.

I looked at him.

"If you take me home, will you take care of me?"

He didn't even lift his head, holding my documents to handle the discharge paperwork for me.

"Not these few days."

"Joanna's project just hit the review stage. I have to go through all the materials with her."

He said it calmly, and even reached out to stroke my head.

"Besides, you only miscarried. It's not like you broke a bone."

"Just go home and lie down and rest. You don't need someone hovering over you."

I still wanted to say something.

He'd already signed for me.

"Let's go."

He gave me no chance to refuse at all.

We got home, and the moment the door opened,

he pushed the bag of ingredients and pots into my arms.

"I bought everything already."

"Joanna's presentation is tomorrow morning. Just get the soup done tonight."

Then he frowned suddenly, looking at my fingers.

My heart jumped. I thought he'd noticed my wedding ring was gone.

But the next second, he said:

"Your hands are all bloody. Wash yournever mind, hurry up and shower first, then cook. Joanna's a germaphobe. If the soup picks up the smell of blood, she definitely won't want to eat it."

He'd barely finished when Joanna's voice called out to him from the study,

and he turned and went in.

From inside came the sound of him and Joanna discussing data,

with a laugh mixed in now and then.

I stood in the kitchen, still gripping the pot handle.

After a long while, I numbly threw the things back onto the counter.

The soup. Whoever wanted to make it could make it.

I turned and went back to the master bedroom.

Since I'd already decided to divorce,

I didn't want to stay a single day longer.

But the instant I opened the closet,

I froze.

Empty.

My clothes, my suitcase, my skincare.

All gone.

Even the little clothes and blankets I'd prepared for the baby with my own hands after I got pregnant, and the little cradle by the bed, had all vanished.

My head went blank with a roar.

I spun around and rushed to the study door.

Bang, bang, Bang! I hammered on the door until it rattled.

The voices inside cut off at once.

A few seconds later, my husband opened the door, frowning.

"What is it now?"

"We're in the middle of an online meeting. Can you stop cutting in on us like this?"

I stared at him.

"Where are my things from the master bedroom?"

He went blank.

Before he could speak,

Joanna had already stepped out from behind him.

She gave me a little smile.

"Didn't Valentine tell you? You two can't share a room right now."

"I was afraid the moment you saw Val your hormones would flood out of control, so I helped you move your things to the guest room. When you're cleared to share a room again, I'll let you know to come sleep in Val's room."

I stared at her, unable to believe it.

"This is my house! This is my husband! It's not your place to arrange me!"

But Joanna acted as if she hadn't understood my accusation at all, and just shrugged.

"This is scientific reproduction. It's perfectly natural that you don't get it."

She raised her hand and pointed at the living room.

"Oh, right. Since the baby miscarried anyway, keeping that stuff around was pointless, so I already threw it out for you."

I followed her hand. The baby's things were all piled in the trash can.

My hands shook with rage.

Then, as if she'd just remembered something, she said:

"The underwear you got for Valentine wasn't up to standard either, so I threw those out too and bought him new ones."

My head snapped up.

"What?"

Her tone was easy, almost affectionate.

"I remeasured his sizes myself and swapped in a batch that actually fits him."

"Honestly, you. Fine, you never made much of your schooling, but how are you married this long and still can't figure out your own husband's size?"

Seeing my face freeze, Joanna finally seemed to catch on.

She smiled at me. "Don't get the wrong idea. I'm a doctor."

"To me, that kind of thing is no different from an arm or a leg."

I couldn't get out a single word.

Valentine had already glanced at his watch, frowning impatiently, and said:

"The meeting isn't over. If there's nothing else, stop bothering us."

"Hurry up and get the soup on the stove. Don't hold up Joanna's rest."

I looked at him, at the way he saw nothing wrong with anything Joanna had done,

at the way he thought I was the one making a nuisance of myself.

And suddenly even being angry felt pointless.

"I'm not making it."

I turned and walked toward the guest room.

His baffled, impatient voice came from behind me at once.

"Are you angry? Just because we threw out some useless garbage for you?"

Joanna lowered her voice and coaxed him.

"Come on, Stella's different from the two of us. It's only natural she can't understand."

"Do me a favor and don't be angry with her, all right?"

I didn't look back. I just shut the door.

I shut the door of the guest room and stood there, leaning against it, for a long time.

Valentine hadn't always been like this.

He was born with genius syndrome. He didn't understand ordinary human feelings.

But for me, he used to watch and learn, clumsy as it was.

If I so much as frowned, he'd ask, careful and quiet, whether something was wrong.

After a fight, even when he had no idea what he'd done wrong, he'd be the first to back down.

Then I introduced him to my best friend, who had the same genius syndrome, so they could work on a project together.

After that, everything changed.

Once, after he'd spent two straight months at Joanna's side revising data instead of coming home, I complained.

He answered me, cold as ice.

"Joanna says geniuses like us shouldn't let ourselves be dragged down by the trivial concerns and moods of ordinary people like you."

"Stella, you can't understand my research anymore. The least you can do is not weigh me down in daily life. All right?"

From then on, my feelings, my complaints, my tears,

all of it became a burden, proof that I didn't know any better.

Especially when it came to having children. He deferred to Joanna almost completely.

The first time I got pregnant,

Joanna drew up a nutrition chart, dense with entries.

Several of the items were things I'd been allergic to since childhood.

I refused to eat them. She pushed the plate in front of me anyway.

"Precisely because you're allergic, you need to build a tolerance."

"A defect in the mother can't be passed down to the next generation."

Valentine pinned my hand down and forced the peanut butter into my mouth.

"Joanna's a doctor. She knows better than you."

That night my whole body broke out in red welts.

The baby didn't make it.

I cried until I couldn't breathe.

Joanna stood at the side of the hospital bed, frowning as she recorded the data.

"So the mother's allergic reaction was stronger than projected."

"We'll just avoid it next time."

The second time I was pregnant,

she said she'd learned from the last time. This time she wouldn't let me touch a single allergen.

But she controlled my diet to the point of cruelty.

Every bite, what I ate, when I ate, how much, all decided by her.

I was so hungry my stomach ached. I begged her to let me eat a little more.

She refused flatly.

"Weight and nutrient intake during pregnancy have to be strictly controlled."

"Bear with it. It's better for the baby."

I turned to Valentine, but he only frowned and scolded me.

"Joanna has stayed up night after night working on your plan."

"You don't understand any of it. Could you stop second-guessing an expert?"

Later, from malnutrition, the second baby didn't make it either.

I lay in the hospital bed and looked at the sheets soaked red, shaking as I cried.

Joanna finished reading the test results and said only one light little thing.

"So it seems overcontrolling the diet doesn't work either."

As if it wasn't my child who had died,

only one wrong answer eliminated for her.

I finally broke and demanded of her,

"How many more times are you going to run tests on me?"

But Valentine's face went dark.

"She's helping us find the best plan for having a child."

"Other people can't even get her to draw up a plan for them. Why can you never just cooperate?"

I looked at the disappointment on his face and couldn't get a single word out.

So when I got pregnant the third time, I begged Valentine.

"This time, don't let her get involved."

He was silent for a while, then he agreed.

The whole pregnancy, the baby was healthy.

I thought I would finally be able to bring him safely into the world.

Until the day of the delivery, when the doctor held the consent form out to Valentine.

He didn't sign it.

"Wait a little longer."

The doctor grew anxious.

"She's already dilated. We can't wait any longer!"

Valentine took out his phone.

"This isn't my area of expertise."

"Let me ask Joanna first."

I lay on the delivery table, shaking all over from the pain.

I clung to his sleeve and begged him without stopping, and still I couldn't stop him from making that call.

Joanna came. She read the results and had them give me a suppressant right there.

"Wait another six hours and the baby's cognitive development markers will be better."

But six hours later, the baby was gone.

Joanna looked at the report and in the end said only this to me.

"Sorry. This time the data deviated from what was projected."

"I promise I'll do better next time."

Then she gathered her things to leave. "I have a review meeting this afternoon. I'll come see you when it's over."

Valentine went out after her at once.

"It's too late to catch a cab. I'll drive you."

"I'll take her to the venue and come straight back."

But he was gone the entire day.

He even took my ID, my insurance card, and all my documents in the bag he carried off.

I couldn't so much as complete the hospital paperwork.

At first light there was a sudden loud crash from the kitchen.

I went out and found the matching bowls I'd made with my own hands shattered across the floor.

Seeing me come out,

Valentine pointed at the pieces on the ground.

"Hurry up and clean this."

"Before Joanna steps on it by accident."

I didn't move.

My eyes went to the counter.

Lotus seeds scattered everywhere, a layer of blackened scorch caked in the pot.

Valentine never cooked.

Once, when I had a fever of a hundred and two and asked him to make me a bowl of porridge,

all he'd said was, "I'm a researcher. I don't do things like cooking."

And now,

for Joanna's presentation tomorrow, he had actually learned to make a nourishing homemade soup.

I turned and went back to the room, took out the divorce papers I'd printed the night before.

Walked back to the dining table,

and set them down in front of him with a slap.

Valentine froze and asked me, "What is this?"

"Divorce papers."

I looked at him.

"Sign them."

Valentine stared at me, blank and baffled.

"Why? Because I told you to sweep the floor? But this is your home too. What's wrong with tidying up?"

I didn't answer. I turned and picked up the bags I'd packed long ago.

I'd barely cleared the complex gates when my phone rang.

It was Joanna.

I meant to reject the call, but a second one came through fast.

I finally picked up.

For the first time, I heard Joanna crying, her voice catching.

"Stella, I'm sorry."

My steps faltered.

She sniffled.

"After you left in a huff just now, I went online and looked up everything I'd done."

"And I realized the things I did last night none of it was right."

Her voice grew urgent.

"Stella, you know how it is."

"I have high-functioning autism."

"Sometimes I honestly don't know where the normal lines between people are supposed to be. I don't understand why certain things make all of you so upset."

"But I never meant to hurt you."

"Can you forgive me? Please?"

I closed my eyes and said quietly,

"Joanna, I don't want to be the person who has to endlessly cover for you clever people anymore."

"I'm divorcing Valentine, and I'm not being your friend either."

Joanna was silent for a few seconds, then suddenly said,

"Then can you come to my lecture today?"

She paused.

"The charm your mother left you before she passed is still with me."

I stopped dead.

"How is it with you?"

That was the keepsake my mother left me when she was dying.

It had vanished a while back, and I'd turned the whole house upside down looking for it.

Joanna said,

"Valentine gave it to me. He said I get nervous going up on stage. When the two of you got married, you only calmed down once you were holding that charm, so he brought it for me to use. It's in my office right now"

I was shaking with rage. I hung up and rushed straight to her lab.

Joanna wasn't there. The charm sat on the desk.

I grabbed it and left.

What I never expected was that the next morning,

I was in the middle of teaching a public art class to my kids.

The classroom door slammed open, and dozens of people, men and women, young and old, came pouring in.

Before I could even react, a woman slapped me hard across the face.

"You can't have children yourself, so you have to make sure no one else can either!"

Then someone yanked my hair and shoved me down beside the podium.

"Eighteen mothers in labor!"

"Since yesterday, eighteen women were given the wrong drugs, and every one of their babies is gone!"

"Dr. Pierce's patient records were all tampered with, and the last person on the security footage who went into her lab was you!"

Blood welled at the corner of my mouth. My head spun.

"I didn't change any data!"

"All I did yesterday was go get the charm my mother left me."

"There are cameras in the lab. Go check them."

I looked at Joanna, standing behind the crowd.

"The one who did this isn't me! Don't have a medical accident on your hands and then pin it on me!"

Joanna's eyes went red in an instant.

"Stella, I know you've got the wrong idea about Valentine and me."

"But whatever grudge you have, take it out on me. Why hurt those innocent mothers?"

"If you did something wrong, you just apologize! How can you frame someone else?"

Valentine came over and pressed down on me, trying to force me to my knees to apologize.

"The camera in Joanna's office is broken. There's no footage to check at all! You knew that, and that's why you have the nerve to slander her so brazenly!"

I shoved him off hard and said, one word at a time,

"I had no idea the camera was broken! And I didn't do it!"

Valentine looked at me with disappointment.

He turned, walked up to the school administrators, and gave a deep, formal bow.

"She is my wife. For her to do something like this, I bear responsibility too."

"I ask that the school dismiss her at once and issue a public reprimand."

Now that even my own husband had said as much,

the parents and school officials, who had been uncertain until then, all turned on me with anger and doubt.

"Teacher Fox! I never imagined you could be this vicious! How is someone like you fit to teach children?"

An administrator said to me, sick at heart,

"I was about to nominate you for the state Outstanding Teacher award. How could you do something like this"

"Given all this, I have no choice but to dismiss you and issue a statewide reprimand"

Valentine said to me coldly,

"I know you can't accept this. Teaching children to paint has been your dream since you were young, and you worked five years for this award."

"But to get revenge on Joanna and me, you threw away the lives of all those children and mothers. Someone with a heart like yours teaching, that's nothing but harming children!"

"On top of that, you destroyed Joanna's career. As the price, you have to pay with your future too."

I clenched my fingers, bit down hard on my lip, and stared at him coldly.

Just then, several officers walked into the classroom.

"Who called the police?"

Under everyone's startled eyes,

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth and said, "I did."

I raised my hand and pointed at Joanna, saying each word clearly,

"I have proof to report her. She broke protocol and caused eighteen mothers to lose their babies."

My voice began, little by little, to break.

"And my three children, they all died at her hands too."