But guilt had already consumed me. I gathered my wife into my arms, holding her tightly.
“Young man, you’re really lucky. Your wife is carrying twins!”
As I helped my wife into the car, an elderly woman’s voice came from behind me. I turned and saw the badge on her chest that read “Postpartum Recovery Specialist, Director Rosalind Turner.”
Noticing the surprise on my face, she quickly explained, “I’m the director here at the yoga studio, in charge of postpartum recovery. Young man, you haven’t done a proper prenatal checkup yet, right? I’ve seen tens of thousands of pregnant women, and I won’t mistake it; your wife is definitely carrying twins.”
I stared at her, stunned. “But we just had a prenatal checkup yesterday. Nine weeks and three days… the doctor said only one fetus.”
“Impossible! Your wife’s belly is already too big. If it’s not twins, then the months must have been miscalculated.”
My wife had already sat down in the car, not hearing a word of this. She looked at me with a joyful smile, but at that moment, her smile felt like a dark hole ready to swallow me whole.