Matured Stories

The unfaithful wife – Season 1 – Episode 27

The unfaithful wife

The unfaithful wife

The unfaithful wife – Season 1 – Episode 27

I stared at the doctor in shock. I was

“Why do you look so shocked,” he
asked. “You should be looking happy,”
he added.

He was right. I should have been
jubilating that I was fertile. But, instead, I
was shocked for good reasons.
When I tried to explain to Dr. Paul
Quansah why I was shocked, I found
that my whole body was trembling. He
asked me to relax for a while before I
talk. So, I sat before him, breathing
heavily. To allow me sometime to calm
down, he got up to attend to other
issues. I began to ask myself several
questions. If I was fertile, how come test
ordered by the law firm I had hired
indicated I was not fertile? I was
confused. After a while, I decided that
two hospitals couldn’t be wrong. The
first hospital had said after a DNA test
that I was not the biological father of
Peter and Pamela and the second had
said I was not fertile enough to father a
child, a result that more or less confirms
the DNA test at the first hospital. My
conclusion therefore was that the
hospital I had come to was wrong in its
conclusions about my fertility.

I was still analyzing the matter when Dr.
Quansah returned to his consulting
room and sat down. I decided to
summarize for him why I had come to
him to have a fertility treatment.
He listened to me quietly without
interruption as I narrated how I caught
my wife in bed with my best friend, my
wife’s claims later that I was not the
biological father of my children, the DNA
test which backed her claims and the
fertility test I had done on the insistence
of my lawyers which showed I was not
fertile enough to father a child.
“So you see, I am sure that you have got
the results of the fertility test wrong,” I
said in conclusion. But, Dr. Quansah said
there was no way they could have
gotten the results wrong. He said it had
never happened before.

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“I will advise that you go to another
fertility centre to conduct another
fertility test to verify whether we are
wrong or not.” he said.

I agreed it was the way to go. I thanked
him and retuned to my car. I explained
to John what had taken place. He too
was shocked and then agreed with me
that the hospital may have gotten things
wrong. He also agreed that the way to
go was for me to go to another fertility
centre to conduct a second fertility test.
Quickly, he suggested another fertility
centre. It was at the eastern end of the
city. I agreed that we go there
immediately so he started the engine of
the car and then drove away, heading
for the eastern end of the city.

The name of the fertility was the St.
Michael’s Men’s Medical Centre. We
arrived there after twenty-five minutes
drive. I was processed at the reception
by an official to see the doctor. Then I
joined the queue of patients waiting to
see the doctor. After ten minutes, I got
the opportunity to see the doctor on
duty. To my surprise, the doctor was a
woman. A female doctor in a men’s
health facility!

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I wasted no time in telling her why I was
there. She scribbled something on a
piece of paper and then directed me to
the laboratory. At the laboratory, the
head there collected the paper, studied
what was on it and then giving me a
small bottle, requested for my semen.
Twice in a matter of an hour, I had to
compel myself to produce semen. I did
and handed it to the laboratory
assistant. He then asked me to go relax
in the waiting room. I did, taking a seat
and grabbing a magazine and waited.
But, I could not concentrate on what I
was reading. My mind was on the test
that was being done. What if it turned
out that I was fertile after all? Did it
mean that I was the biological father of
Peter and Pamela? Will it mean that the
first DNA test was wrong?
Eventually, the door to the waiting room
opened. It was the laboratory technician.
He said he had completed the test and
that the result was with the doctor who
was ready to see me. I immediately
placed the magazine down on the table,
got up and followed the man. At the
door of the doctor’s consulting room, he
knocked, opened and asked me to enter.
Then he closed the door and returned to
his laboratory, leaving me alone with the

I was tensed. It was as if a judge was
about to read to me his ruling. I noticed
that I was sweating.

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