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My younger sister wanted to have a child, but as a high-ranking executive in the fashion industry, she was concerned that childbirth would affect her figure and career. So my clever husband came up with a solution: Use her eggs and his sperm, implant them in my body, and have me carry the child for my sister. "Anyway, you're a housewife with nothing to do, so why not contribute? “The child will be yours too, and you can help raise it—this is a win-win situation.” In this era of gender equality, I never expected to be treated like a breeding machine by my own sister. After I rejected this crazy idea, my husband threatened me with divorce. “You’re just a housewife; see how you’ll survive without me.” I sneered, relieved that I had been low-key enough in my daily life and that even my sudden wealth had not been known by this scummy couple. My husband Frank had been away on a business trip for a month and had just returned home. As soon as he got back, he pushed me down and wanted to have sex with me. After we finished, he suggested we that we have a talk. I thought he was going to say some romantic words, but instead, he dropped a bombshell. “Honey, I want you to be a surrogate for Giselle.” I stared at him in disbelief. Giselle was my younger sister. She had always been talking about how she was getting older and wanted her own child. But she was always been single and had been dieting and exercising to stay slim, so I’d always wondered how she planed to have a child. So he had come up with this idea. I was speechless. “Can’t she bear her own child? Why does she need me to be a surrogate?” My husband withdrew the hand he was holding me and gave me a disdainful look: “The workplace is so demanding on women these days. If Giselle has a child during her career peak, her figure will change, she’ll have to take maternity leave—what future does she have then? “You’re different. You’re just sitting at home doing nothing anyway, so having a child won’t interfere with anything. “Besides, the child will come out of your womb, so it’ll be half your own flesh and blood. You’ve always wanted your own child, haven’t you?” I do want my own child, but not in this way. Frank had always been adamant about not having children and had been more proactive than anyone else about contraception. I never thought he’d go this far for Giselle. Hearing him say these absurd things, I couldn’t process it all at once and could only remain silent. “There’s one more thing.” He paused as if he’d made up his mind to be honest. “Giselle said she doesn’t trust the quality of sperm donors outside, and worried they might have diseases. She wants to use my sperm.” His evasive, guilty gaze didn’t fool me. There’s definitely more than just a donor relationship between the two of them. I wanted to refuse outright, but on one side was the man I deeply loved, and on the other was my younger sister, whom I had always accommodated since childhood. I couldn’t bring myself to say no. “Let me think about it.” Frank stroked my head gently and said, “Take your time to consider it. I know you’re always reasonable; you’ll figure it out.” The word “sensible” stung me. Because of that word, I always ended up backing down. “I just think that our marriage is so happy, and Giselle has nothing. We should help her.” Here we go again. Frank never admited to having improper feelings for my sister; he always thought excuses for her. Just as I was about to muster the courage to tell Frank my true feelings, his phone rang at the perfect moment. Giselle's familiar, delicate voice rang out. “Frank, I twisted my ankle. Come save me!” I checked the time—it was already 2 o’clock at midnight. I wondered where Giselle had twisted her ankle that she needed someone else's husband to rush over in the middle of the night. “Ophelia, Giselle seems to be in bad shape. I need to go check on her.” “But if you don’t want me to, I can stay.” He said he could stay, but his clothes were already on, and his long legs were halfway out the door. I’d grown numb to it all and said indifferently, “Alright, go ahead.” He returned to kiss my forehead, “Sweetheart, go to sleep first, you don’t have to wait for me to come back.” Hearing the sound of the car starting, I sighed and clicked the family court website , clicking on the divorce appointment. A love triangle was too crowded. I was tired.