Two Frozen Embryos, One Divorce

Julian placed the tablet back on the kitchen counter and picked up the knife again. The blade came down, cutting the orange into four perfectly even pieces. "Madeline wasn't in good health back then, so she had the embryos preserved before her surgery. Later, we got divorced, and those embryos were never dealt with." I didn't take the plate of fruit he pushed toward me. "Why do you renew the storage every year?" "The system sends reminders." "And when it reminds you, you renew it?" His hand stopped. He turned his head, as if he had finally realized that I wasn't just asking casually. "Anna Carter, it doesn't cost much for 1 year." I turned the tablet around. "I'm not asking about the money." Seven payment records, one after another. Not a single year had been missed. The first payment was made after their divorce. The third was made on the day we registered our marriage. I still remembered the timing of the fifth one. That night, I had asked him seriously for the first time when he wanted to have children. He had pulled me onto his lap and smiled, saying that his work had only just stabilized and we should wait another year. After I fell asleep, he renewed the storage for another year for a different future. Julian glanced at the records and actually laughed. "The house is under both our names, and you have my salary card. The place I come back to every day is this home." He pulled out a piece of paper to wipe his hands and walked over to me. "Who I'm living with, don't you know better than anyone? Annie, I've already given you everything I can give to this marriage." The words sounded like he was trying to comfort me. And it was true—he had never neglected this family. Over the 5 years we had been married, from major decisions like buying a house to paying for my mother's annual medical checkups, he had never avoided his responsibilities. That was exactly why I had always believed Madeline was nothing more than a name from his past. "So because I've already received so much, I'm not allowed to ask about those two embryos?" Julian frowned. "That's not what I meant." "Then what do you mean?" "She went through a lot of pain during treatment back then. This is the last thing she has left from that time. I can't destroy that choice for her just because we got divorced." I looked at him. "What if she wants to end it herself?" He didn't answer. He picked up a slice of orange and placed it in my palm. "Eat something first. Didn't you say your stomach hurt this afternoon?" I put the orange back onto the plate. "Will you renew it again next year?" He let out a sigh. "Mrs. Hawthorne, do you really have to force me to answer a question with no clear answer right now?" Usually, when he called me that, I would laugh. But not today. "7 years. Hasn't that been enough time for you to think about it?" The smile slowly faded from his face. "These embryos being preserved doesn't affect our lives. If you really want children, we can start this year." I looked up. "Really?" "Really." He held my hand. His palm was still warm and familiar. "You still have many chances in the future." He paused. "She only has these two left." "So I'm supposed to act more understanding?" Julian frowned. "When did I ever ask you to be understanding?" "Just now." My hand slowly grew cold. Julian seemed to notice the change in my emotions and held on tighter. "I'm not asking you to accommodate her. I just think there's no need for us to hold on to the past." Just then, the tablet vibrated again. Madeline: I've signed the paperwork to terminate the storage. As for the remaining one, when would be a convenient time for you to handle it? I turned the screen toward him. The expression on Julian's face froze. "She doesn't even want it anymore. Who are you still preserving it for?" He released my hand. The only sound left in the kitchen was the faint sizzling from the frying pan. The countdown in the upper-right corner changed to 71 hours and 36 minutes. I didn't ask anything else. Julian turned around to turn off the stove. The spatula hit the edge of the pan, making a soft clatter.