On the day my wife underwent IVF for her gravely ill first love, her sister and brother-in-law ordered more than a dozen bodyguards to seal off the hospital room.
But even after the procedure was over, I still hadn’t come to stop her.
Her sister stroked her hair and comforted her:
“Don’t be scared, sis. As long as we’re here, we won’t let that man get anywhere near you!”
“Your brother-in-law has a whole group of people standing guard downstairs. If he dares to interfere, we’ll break his legs!”
My wife nodded, but still anxiously glanced toward the door.
Only after confirming I wasn’t there did she finally relax.
She couldn’t understand why I had to make such a fuss over her simply helping her first love have a child.
She even thought that if I showed up tomorrow with something she liked and apologized, she could forgive me and let bygones be bygones. She might even consider letting me be the child’s father in name.
But she didn’t know that I had already accepted an invitation to help develop a classified national weapon.
In a week, I would leave for a remote mountain wilderness unknown to anyone, and I wouldn’t return for twenty years.
So pitiful and pitiful
Shoddy work with confusing logic
What is the purpose of your coming to earth?