This is the internet. A place where you can find anything if you look hard enough. Amos knew he’d do anything to cover up his secret. He knew each time he made love to his wife, it inched them closer to the discovery. He had gone through possible solutions, but none covered his ‘shame.’ Desperate to find a solution, he turned to the internet. At first, he found approaches he had already considered, which only frustrated him. He had nobody to share his frustrations with, and he wondered if other men like him were out there.
How had they solved this? He refused to believe he was the only man desperate enough to seek a discreet, untraceable solution. It became his obsession — an all-consuming hunt through the internet’s dark corners. One forum led to another, like a secret door that led to another hidden door, until he finally stumbled upon his tribe. A brotherhood of bitter, broken men convinced the universe had burdened them with the impossible task of proving their manhood while cruelly stripping them of the means to do it. In that shadowy space, their resentment festered, their stories blurred, and solutions more twisted than he could’ve imagined were exchanged like currency.
There were three possible solutions: adoption, sperm donation, or abandoning the dream of fatherhood altogether. Amos had known his options for a while. They lurked in the back of his mind like unwelcome guests. But none offered what he truly needed: a way to keep his secret buried. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Cheryl looking at him with pity, of being less of a man in her eyes. Whatever solution he chose, it had to preserve the illusion. His pride demanded it. His shame insisted.
He scoured the part of the internet that he had stumbled upon, reading every written discussion about the matter and analyzing every written and unspoken word. Then something caught his eye. There it was! He had finally found it.
Bad decisions don’t always happen in a reckless, impulsive moment; sometimes, they’re built slowly, piece by piece, until they start to feel like logic. Amos wasn’t impulsive. He was just a man cornered by fate and forced to rewrite the rules. “Only strong men took bold steps,” he thought. He needed a solution that let him save face, one that wouldn’t shatter the image Cheryl had of him. This wasn’t a matter of preference but survival. If dressing it up as a secret sperm donation made it palatable, so be it. Morality was for men who could afford to care. He couldn’t. Not anymore.
“How do we go about it?” Amos asked the person on the other end.
“Have my money ready, track your wife’s period, and let me know when it’s time. I’ll give you the drugs to knock her out. It will be done in less than 20 minutes. We’ll never communicate again,” said the guy on the other end.
“How do I know it worked?” Amos asked.
“When you see your pregnant wife,” said the guy on the other end.
“What about screening for diseases?” Amos asked.
“Do you want your wife pregnant, or do you want to play doctor?” Replied the guy on the other end.
The service was well known in that dark world, but Amos had questions about it. Although he knew no answer was going to change his mind. It had to be done.
When the time came, he followed the instructions to a tee, with one exception: he hid a camera. He didn’t know why, but it made him feel less helpless. Like he had been told, it was over within minutes.
In about a month, Cheryl confirmed that she was pregnant. He received the news with mixed feelings. His secret was safe but he had a bigger one. Amos also secretly started resenting Cheryl and the child she was carrying. The video of another man lying with his wife replayed in his mind. It stabbed at his pride and whispered a tale of weakness in his ears.
The pregnancy was a difficult one, as though its conception was a bad omen. Cheryl constantly reminded herself that she had waited for more than two years with anxiety and worry over what could have been causing the delay. That reminder became her anchor, the thing that helped her endure the sickness, the exhaustion, and the creeping sense that something about it all felt… wrong.
Meanwhile, Amos pulled away a little more every day. Cheryl gave birth to a sickly child. As the bills piled up, Amos sought solace in alcohol. One time, in his drunken state, he cursed out the child and stated that he was suffering because of a child who wasn’t his. Cheryl was confused but didn’t probe further, though.
The baby’s health remained delicate, and at some point, it needed blood. None of their blood types matched the kid’s. Cheryl grew suspicious. Amos’ drunken confession came to mind. She secretly took his DNA for a paternity test. However, it made no sense even as she did it since she hadn’t been unfaithful.
Her baby’s health took centre stage, and she didn’t obsess over the paternity until the results came back. She almost passed out when she discovered he wasn’t the child’s father. There must have been a mistake. Yet something in her gut told her something was wrong.
Between the medical bills, the emotional strain of dealing with a sick child and her marriage, she decided she’d get to the bottom of the matter later. She lived in fear that Amos would find out she had done the test, but her child’s health was the priority. You could cut the tension in that house. Each person carried a secret, some heavier than others. The illusion of their lives could be shattered at any moment.
On a foggy July morning, while Cheryl was in the hospital with the baby, drunk Amos staggered into their bedroom. He tripped on something and fell. While on the floor, he noticed a bag under the bed. He hadn’t seen it before. Curiosity took over, and he searched it. That’s how he discovered the paternity test. Fear engulfed him, and he sobered up immediately. Cheryl would soon find out what he had done.
Unable to think straight in his state of panic, he needed a little help from his bestie — the bottle. He went to his usual local and asked for the stiffest drink he could find. Once more, he was tasked with finding a way out of a solution. “Can’t a man catch a break?” He thought. One drink turned into a dozen others. He had left his phone at home, charging. Nobody could pull him away from his drink. He left hours later when he ran out of money.
He took the longer path back home. Anything to derail it was a welcome distraction. He chose a path that required him to cross a busy highway. Amos didn’t see it coming until it was too late. The last thing he heard was a loud hoot. He no longer needed to find a way out of his troubles. It had found him.
Cheryl had tried calling him countless times while at the hospital. The baby needed another procedure. When she finally went home, she found his phone. She was angry but not worried because she knew he was somewhere drinking. Worry kicked in the following day when Amos didn’t come home. She called his sister.
It took a few days to piece it together, but they eventually learned of Amos’ sudden death. The accident had disfigured him pretty badly. Cheryl felt like a train had hit her as well. Even strong soldiers tire.
The funeral planning was quick. The family helped with the planning. As they buried Amos, his sister innocently revealed something.
“At least he left a child to carry on his legacy. We were always afraid that he might not be able to because of his injury,” said the sister.
“What injury?” Cheryl asked.
“Oh, you didn’t know? He had a testicular injury when he was young. The doctors said it might affect his ability to sire children,” she said.
Cheryl felt the world spinning. She had pieces of information that meant something, but couldn’t string them together to form a clear picture. Without needing any explanation, she knew the paternity test results were accurate. The question remained: how did she get pregnant? As if on cue, the child started crying.
Problems had found a home in Cheryl’s life. They camped there, weaving webs and plotting devious ways of revealing themselves. Barely a week after Amos’s death, the child got worse. Despite the doctors’ best efforts, the child died.
Cheryl didn’t weep frantically or recognise herself from the reaction. She had been in emotional, mental and physical turmoil since her pregnancy, and she lacked the strength to express strong emotions. In a week, she had lost her family. What cruelty had the gods meted out against her?
It was as though her family members were returning for a front-row seat in the second episode of her sad life. They buried the child quickly. Cheryl was left to deal with grief and mysteries. “If this wasn’t Amos’ child, how did I get pregnant? Witchcraft? Turkey baster? Whose child did I carry?” Cheryl wondered.
The need for answers ate at her, and she felt like she was going crazy. For some reason, she didn’t share the information with anyone. The internet was her confidant. Her body felt foreign. She felt trapped in a body that carried a secret she was unaware of. Unfortunately, her research skills weren’t as adept as Amos’s.
She went through life with sadness and heaviness. Weeks became months, and the question lingered. Eventually, she found the strength to clear out Amos’ clothes. She found a drive amongst his clothes. It fell out of an old jacket. There was a video that partly answered her question.
It wasn’t a clear video since the lights were dim. However, she could tell that it was their bedroom. She was asleep. A man in black clothes and a balaclava came into her bed. Minutes later, he left with a bag of money. Amos closed the door after he left.
Cheryl needed to vomit after watching the video. Amos’s words finally made sense. His distance during the pregnancy, incompatible blood types with the child, his drinking, the test, everything now made sense. She burned his clothes and everything that reminded her of him and the child. She burned the drive, too, after rewatching it several times.
Finally, the frantic weeping kicked in. Cheryl was angry. Amos had violated her in insidious ways. Yet, she couldn’t find the strength to tell anyone. It was a secret so horrible, she wanted to bury it so deep. She needed a fresh start, so she sold everything and moved away to a small, remote town where she thought her troubles and their memories couldn’t follow her.
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