As we collapse together, panting, hearts racing, I can’t help but smile against her skin. In this moment, we’ve crossed every boundary, and I know we’ve only just begun.
Her chest heaves.
“How soon can you go again?”
I smirk. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“I was joking,” she grins. “This would be four in a day.”
“I wasn’t.”
“As long as you cook after. I’m starving.”
Chapter Fourteen
ELENA
I’m sitting in a cold doctor’s office.
The fluorescent lights hum.
There’s a stack of outdated parenting magazines on the counter, taunting me.
My husband—ex-husband now. I’m confused as he sits beside me. Why am I back here?
His hands are folded and his jaw is tight, like he's bracing for impact.
The doctor takes off her glasses, folds her hands, and says the words that broke me once:
“Your tests came back. You’re not ovulating regularly. Conception is…unlikely.”
I feel the weight set heavy in my chest. “Unlikely?”
She softens her tone.
“There are treatments. Options. But naturally? It will be very difficult.”
My husband exhales hard, head in his hands.
And in the dream — just like it happened — he says the sentence that scorched my heart:
“So… this isyourfault.”
I gasp.
“I—I didn’t know?—”
“You should’ve figured this out sooner,” he snaps. “We wasted time.”
My stomach sinks, and my chest tightens with guilt.
The room tilts, and I feel dizzy.
“It’s not…” I whisper, “it’s not something I did wrong.”
But he won’t look at me, nor even touch me.
He won’t say he’s still on my side.
