The doctor pulled his hand free and looked at me in disbelief. “If you’re sick, go see the psychiatric department!”
“No, no, that’s not what I mean. I’m asking if it’s one baby or two?”
The doctor’s face showed clear impatience. “I already told you, one fetus, nine weeks and three days!”
“But then why is my wife’s belly so big? Someone said she might be carrying twins; if not, then the months must be wrong…”
The doctor lifted his head and stared at me for a long time without speaking. Then, all of a sudden, his expression turned angry.
“Am I the expert here, or not? Someone said, someone said, then why don’t you have that person do the checkup instead? Your family members are really something!”
“There are plenty of reasons for a big belly! The baby could just be growing faster, or the mother might be overnourished…”
I caught sight of myself in the mirror, looking miserable, and let out a bitter laugh. The hospital didn’t believe me. My wife didn’t believe me. Yet I kept clinging to a voice I couldn’t even be sure was real.
I sank down in the corridor, feeling defeated. Just then, my wife walked toward me, and that voice came again.