The Wrong Name
1800 Words
CAMELLIA
I couldn't sleep.
I laid on my side staring at the ceiling, watching the faint headlights from passing cars slide across the walls like restless ghosts. Every time I closed my eyes, Lina’s voice replayed in my head.
We need you to come in tomorrow.
Important.
By three in the morning, I gave up pretending. I sat up, pulled my knees to my chest, and pressed my palm against my stomach.
Was something wrong already? Was my body rejecting it? Had I done something careless? The coffee I almost drank. The hours on my feet at the bar. The stress.
My thoughts spiraled until dawn bled faint pink through my curtains.
I don't even know why I am panicking about the embryo. I haven't gone to the clinic for testing.
When my alarm rang at seven, I was already awake.
My reflection in the mirror looked like someone who had been crying, even though I hadn’t. My eyes were swollen. My skin was looking pale. I brushed my teeth mechanically, dressed in black jeans and a soft sweater, and tied my hair back with trembling fingers.
I skipped breakfast. The thought of food made my stomach twist.
The bus ride to New Horizons Fertility Clinic felt longer than usual. Every bump in the road jolted through me. I held onto the metal pole and tried not to imagine worst-case scenarios.
Miscarriage.
Complications.
Rejection.
The clinic building came into view, sleek glass and polished steel catching the morning light. It looked clean, perfect, and precise.
I walked through the sliding doors. The scent of antiseptic hit me immediately. I met a few people sitting in the waiting area. The receptionist offered a polite smile.
“Good morning, Ms. Walker. Please have a seat.”
My knees felt weak as I lowered myself into one of the cushioned chairs in the waiting area. A television mounted on the wall played a silent loop of smiling babies and grateful couples.
I folded my hands tightly in my lap to stop them from shaking. Every nurse who walked past made my heart skip a beat.
After what felt like an hour but was probably ten minutes, a nurse in pale blue scrubs stepped into the doorway.
“Ms. Walker? Dr. Lina will see you now.”
My legs felt hollow as I stood.
The hallway to Lina’s office seemed longer than I remembered. Each step echoed.
The nurse knocked lightly before opening the door. Lina was standing when I entered.
She looked composed and professional, but there was something in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Good morning, Camellia,” she said gently.
“Morning.”
“Please, sit.”
I lowered myself into the chair across from her desk. The room felt smaller than usual.
She didn’t sit immediately. Instead, she closed the door behind me. My pulse began to race. Lina finally sat down, folding her hands together.
She inhaled. “Before we begin,” she said carefully, “I want to apologize.”
The word hit like a slap.
My throat tightened. “Why are you apologizing?”
Her eyes met mine directly. “A mistake was made.”
The air in the room shifted.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Lina swallowed. “We discovered this morning that the embryo implanted during your procedure was not the one assigned to you.”
For a second, the words didn’t register. Everything looked blurry.
“What?”
“The embryo currently implanted in you,” she continued slowly, “belongs to another intended parent.”
My brain lagged behind her sentence.
Another parent.
Another embryo.
My voice came out sharp and loud.
“I heard you the first time, but I will ask again, what are you saying?”
Lina’s expression remained steady, but I saw tension in her jaw.
“The embryo transferred to you was meant for a different surrogate.”
I stood abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“What do you mean by a wrong embryo?” My voice cracked. “That’s not possible.”
“It appears there was a mix-up in labeling during the transfer process.”
“A mix-up?” I repeated incredulously. “This is not a lab sample. This is my body!”
She nodded. “You’re right.”
“How does something like this even happen?” My chest felt tight. “You said everything was tracked and calculated. I thought you were a top-notch clinic.”
“It was negligence,” she admitted quietly. “We had two surrogates scheduled that morning with similar names.”
My head spun. “Similar how?”
“The other surrogate’s name is also Camelia Walker.”
Can this day not get any worse?
I blinked at her. “Same name? What kind of coincidence is that?”
“Technically it's different spellings, one ‘l’ instead of two,” she clarified. “The profiles were different, age, background, but the names were nearly identical. The embryos were placed in separate containers, but during final preparation, the labeling was not cross-verified by a second staff member.”
I stared at her.
Like who is this crazy lady? How does that help this situation? Oh my gosh.
“So because someone didn’t double-check a label, I’m carrying the wrong embryo?”
My hands curled into fists. “What kind of clinic makes a mistake like that?”
Her voice softened. “We take full responsibility.”
“Who did it?” I demanded. “Who was in charge? Who handled the transfer?”
“I cannot disclose specific staff identities.”
“Why not?” My voice rose again. “This is my life!”
“Because we are conducting an internal investigation. There are legal protocols.”
Legal protocols
The word made everything feel heavier.
I paced the room.
“So the embryo meant for me… where is it?”
“In the lab,” she replied. “It was discovered this morning when the other surrogate came in for transfer, and during a system cross-check, the embryology team realized the embryo remaining in storage was the one assigned to you.”
I pressed my hands to my temples. “This can’t be real.”
“I understand this is overwhelming.”
“No, you don’t,” I shot back. “You don’t get to say that.”
"Has the family with the embryo I was supposed to carry be informed?" I asked.
"Yes. We informed them yesterday." She paused. "Since you are not carrying their embryo, you will have to refund half of the payment made into your account."
Why are all these things happening to me?
My vision became blurry. Tears rolled down my cheeks as if they were competing to see who got to my chin first.
My chest rose and fell rapidly.
“Who is the father?” I asked suddenly.
"I'm sorry I can't disclose that information. Client's confidentiality."
"Well, your so-called 'client's' embryo is inside of me and I demand to know who the father is." From her facial expression, I knew I scared the living daylight out of her.
Lina hesitated a bit before speaking. “The intended parent of the embryo currently implanted in you,” she clarified, “is Mr. Xavier King.”
The name meant nothing. “Who?”
“Xavier King,” she replied.
I shook my head. “I don’t know who that is.”
“He is the sole intended parent. The embryo was created through IVF using his genetic material and a donor egg.”
I stared at her.
“So I’m carrying a single father's baby by accident?”
She didn’t answer directly, but her silence was confirmation.
My stomach turned immediately. Not to be rude but I thought it was going to be another sweet couple.
This wasn’t part of the agreement. I signed a contract with a couple. A quiet pair who wanted privacy. Who met me once through a video call. Not this.
“Does he know?” I asked.
“Yes.”
The word dropped heavily between us.
“He was informed immediately we found out. He is on his way here now.”
My heart skipped. “Now?”
“Yes.”
Anger surged through me again. “So he finds out instantly, but I get a vague text about an urgent appointment?”
“We needed to confirm the details before alarming you.”
I let out a bitter laugh.
“Alarming me?”
I pulled my phone from my bag and dialed Maya. It rang twice before I hung up. I couldn’t say this out loud. My fingers moved quickly instead.
Me: Something is wrong. They implanted the wrong embryo.
Maya: WHAT?
Me: I’m carrying someone else’s baby.
Maya: I’m coming there right now.
Me: Don’t. Let me handle this first.
My hands shook as I set the phone down.
“What happens now?” I asked quietly.
Lina’s expression turned clinical again.
“There are options. However, this situation involves contractual and legal considerations. Mr. King will likely want to discuss next steps directly.”
I sank back into the chair. My head throbbed. I massaged my temples gently.
Lina stood. “Would you like some water?”
“No.”
“Tea?”
“No.”
I stared at the door. “How long does it take for him to get here?”
“He was already en route when we spoke.”
I folded my arms tightly across my chest.
I didn’t know this man. I didn’t know what he would say. What he would demand.
What if he wanted me to end it?
The thought made my stomach twist violently. I needed the money but this is so insane. If I had enough I would sue this clinic.
The embryo inside me wasn’t a label. It wasn’t a mix-up. It was already something.
I guess.
An hour passed. Every second dragged.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the office.
Then the door opened, and the air changed. He walked in like he owned the building. Tailored charcoal suit, crisp white shirt, no tie, controlled movements, and measured steps.
My breath caught. I knew that face.
The sharp jaw, dark eyes, quiet intensity.
Oh my God. It's him from the bar.
The man I slapped.
Our eyes locked. Recognition struck at the same time.
“You again,” we both said.
Lina looked between us, confusion clear across her features.
“You know each other?” she asked.
My pulse roared in my ears.
Of all the men in the city.
Of all the possible strangers.
It had to be him.
And judging by the storm gathering in his eyes, this was only the beginning.
- Writer
