“Hallo?Your wife has given birth to twins!”
“But… I’m 52 years old… and I havent got a wife!”
“Well, I dont know… best come and have a look; she says theyre yours.”
When I heard those words, I thought someone must have dialed the wrong number. At 52, what children could they possibly mean? Still, my curiosity got the better of me. I hopped into the car and drove off.
Upon entering the ward, my legs almost buckled beneath me. There, before me, lay my ex-wife. And, on either side of her, slept two tiny bundles of pure joy.
“Margaret, whose children are these? Who do they belong to?”
“Theyre yours,” she replied, completely unfazed.
I stood in silence, trying to make sense of her words.
“Youre 49. And we parted ways ages ago”
“Yes, just seven months back. Only, at the time, I had no idea I was expecting.”
“But how on Earth could that have happened?”
“I thought it was the menopause. Who would have guessed that our passionate farewell would lead to this? Anyway, I expect nothing from you. You simply had a right to know.”
“Twins, both at once We tried for so many years, and it never happened.”
“To tell the truth, I was just as shocked. I didnt even suspect anything until the fifth month. I thought I was losing my mind from all the strange feelings inside”
Honestly, it made sense. Margaret was always a plump woman, so no one among our acquaintances ever noticed any difference.
When we met, she was already a chubby sortand it suited me fine. I never cared for skinny women. Life together was good, though we deeply longed for children. Margaret sought treatments, fretted endlessly, but to no avail.
Eventually, we decided to live just for ourselves. We worked hard, but played harder. The seaside, the Lake District, every historic city in Europe we could find. But in the last five years, something shifted between us. I suppose we finally accepted there would be no children. With age comes a peculiar lonelinessthe thought that not a soul will visit your grave.
We began to argue. Margaret put on another two stone. One day, she told me:
“Were making each other miserable now. I think we should divorce. Perhaps youll find a way to become a father, still.”
In truth, I never wanted such a thing. But Margaret made up her mind. It hurt terribly. Yet off I went.
It was only later she confessed shed been frightened to tell me of the pregnancy. Uncertain whether shed carry to term, unsure if the children would be healthy. And now such a twist of fate.
That very day, I stopped by the jewellers, picked up a ring and a grand bouquet. I returned to the maternity ward and proposed. Its been two years now. Were together again. The twins are thriving, and we are happyeven if were young parents only in our hearts.
Would you dare bring children into the world at such an age? Or do you believe happiness comes with a sell-by date?
