Scheduling My Ex-Husband for Urology

"Congratulations, you're pregnant. Six weeks along."

Marina Spencer stared at the test results in her hand, frozen in place.

After four years of marriage, she and Kean Foster had been trying for a baby but couldn't conceive.

Now it had finally happened. Her fingers trembled with excitement.

Marina gently touched her belly, then pulled out her phone to call Kean. But just as she dialed his number, she hung up.

Never mind, better to tell him in person.

Marina carefully folded the test results, put them in her bag, and left the examination room.

When she reached the parking lot, she saw a familiar Maybach—Kean's car.

The rear window was half open. A woman was straddling Kean's lap, arms around his neck, kissing him seductively.

Kean had his arm around the woman's waist. His shirt collar was slightly open, revealing suggestive marks on his collarbone.

Marina felt like she'd been struck by lightning. Her mind went blank, and her ears started ringing.

She knew this woman—Claire Lewis, Kean's secretary, a recent college graduate.

Kean had once complained to her about how clumsy his new secretary was, and she'd even defended the girl.

On the very day she found out she was pregnant, she'd caught her husband cheating. Marina felt devastated.

She didn't know how she made it home. Clutching the pregnancy test, she sat on the sofa in a daze.

That evening, Kean came home. Marina quickly hid the test results.

Kean was carrying an elegant paper bag. Acting as if nothing had happened, he handed it to her. "Got this for you—your favorite strawberry cake."

Marina took the bag and looked down at the strawberry cake, her nose tingling with emotion.

After three years of marriage, Kean had always been thoughtful and caring—a model husband. Friends all said Marina was lucky to have married him.

Kean's gaze lingered on her face. Noticing something was off, he asked tentatively, "Didn't you go to the hospital today? How did it go?"

Marina put the cake in the fridge and said flatly, "Nothing serious. Just a bit of a cold."

Kean walked over and hugged her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. His voice was low and magnetic. "That's good. I've been worried about you."

A sharp perfume smell hit Marina. Her body stiffened, and she instinctively pushed Kean away. Her voice was cold. "Go change your clothes."

Kean paused, sniffed his sleeve, then smiled. "I met with a client this afternoon. Probably picked up some cigarette smoke. What? You disgusted with me now?"

Marina said nothing.

"Alright, I'll go take a shower." Kean let go and headed upstairs.

Marina stood there, watching his retreating figure, replaying the scene from the parking lot in her mind. Her heart ached.

When Kean came out of the shower, Marina was already lying in bed with her back to him.

He walked over and hugged her from behind, his hand starting to wander under her nightgown.

"Marina..." His voice was low and husky. "I'm sorry I couldn't go to the hospital with you today. I'll make it up to you."

His warm breath brushed against Marina's neck. She suddenly remembered the pregnancy test and instinctively protected her belly, pushing his hand away. "Not tonight."

Kean's hand stopped. "Why not?"

"I'm a bit tired." Marina made up an excuse, not wanting to tell him about the pregnancy.

Kean was silent for a few seconds, then withdrew his hand. His tone was disappointed. "Fine. Get some rest then."

He turned over and lay flat, his back to her.

Marina looked at his back, feeling cold inside.

Just then, Kean's phone rang. Marina glanced over and saw Claire's name on the screen.

Kean looked back at her, got up, and went outside to take the call.

A few minutes later, Kean returned. Without even looking at Marina, he walked straight to the closet and started changing. "Something urgent came up at the office. I need to go."

Marina watched his busy figure and deliberately asked, "What's so urgent?"

"A project ran into problems." Kean adjusted his tie, bent down to kiss her forehead. "Wait for me at home."

With that, he left without looking back.

The moment the door closed, Marina's tears finally fell.

Not from sadness, but from the absurdity of it all.

They'd been married for three years. Every time Marina needed him, he said he had work.

She'd been understanding about his busy schedule and never complained. But he could make time for another woman at any moment.

He was no longer the young man who only had eyes for her when they first met.

Just then, her phone buzzed—a photo from an unknown number.

In the photo, Kean had his arm around Claire's waist. They were standing in an elevator, taking a mirror selfie.

Claire was smiling sweetly while Kean leaned in to kiss her ear, looking eager.

Below was a line of text: [Kean says I'm gentler and more caring than you, better at making him happy. He says being with me makes him feel like a real man.]

Marina's hand trembled as she held the phone. Suddenly, her stomach churned.

She rushed to the bathroom, gripping the sink as she dry-heaved. Tears blurred her vision.

Looking at herself in the mirror—pale, red-eyed, a complete mess—she felt disgusted. Even Kean would be disgusted.

She used to be a radiant socialite with countless admirers.

But for Kean, she'd given up everything and willingly became a housewife.

Everyone said she was happy. Only she knew—she was becoming less and less like herself.

Marina wiped her face, walked out of the bathroom, and pulled the test results from her bag.

Her hand gently stroked it, her voice somewhat bitter. "Baby, your timing really isn't great."

Marina sat on the edge of the bed, opened her phone, and sent a message: [Find me a lawyer. I want a divorce.]