My wife secretly aborted her own flesh and blood for her childhood. After she became pregnant again, she threatened me with righteousness.

After being separated from my wife for a year, I finally saw her again, and she was already five months pregnant. My anger and questions only brought her defensive retorts.

“I’m an independent woman, and I have the right to control my own body!”

“Why are you so upset that I’m having a child for a childhood friend?”

Her childhood friend chimed in, explaining that the child was conceived via IVF, and they weren’t romantically involved.

In the streets of France, they mocked me with, “When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” and kissed right in front of me, calling me a backward bumpkin with outdated beliefs.

“Don’t let him know I intentionally aborted the last child. The first child I give birth to can only be yours,” my wife whispered to her friend, unaware that I had already learned enough French to understand her.