Many years after the divorce, he returned to tease her, only to find her with triplets and a private jet.
The air was sad with tension in the living room. Laura sat strictly on the edge of the cream leather sofa, her fingers comfortably running along the rim of her untouched teacup. Curtis stood erect, completely detached.
“I’ve signed everything. The lawyer will send you the final announcement on Monday,” he said. Her suitcase was prepared by the door, as if the twelve years of marriage they shared were just a temporary break in both of their lives.
Laura didn’t answer. But now that she was here, all she could do was gaze at the man who had once been her future. “We weren’t going anywhere, Laura.
No children, no spark. I can’t keep waiting for something that will never occur.”
“I tried, Curtis,” she whispered. “I wanted it too,” he replied but he had already opened the door.
Outside, a red SUV was waiting, and in the passenger seat was Carol, the girl from the office, always graceful, with high heels and red lipstick, and no history with him. Laura walked to the table, stared at the divorce papers, and saw her signature next to his. She didn’t know it yet, but that forgotten, rejected, and legally hers sample would one day alter her destiny.
The doctor’s office smelled of antiseptic and a strange lavender aroma. She sat stiffly across from Dr. Evans, her hands clasped in her lap.
“I’m afraid your chances of natural conception remain extremely low, Laura,” he said, gently sliding a folder toward her. “Your AMH levels have dropped even further since last year.”
He tried to nod, but the pain in his chest made it difficult to breathe. “Is there nothing?
Nothing left to try?” The question came out broken, as if his hope was on the brink of collapse. The doctor sighed and provided her a sad smile. “We’ve drained most viable options, unless you consider IVF with donor sperm or an existing sample.”
That night, Laura huddled on the couch, wrapped in a blanket that gave no warmth.
Margaret, her oldest friend, arrived with two steaming coffees and a small bag of pastries. One look into Laura’s eyes told her everything. “It didn’t go well,” Laura murmured, tears slipping down her cheeks.
“There’s no chance—at least not naturally.”
Margaret set the coffee on the table and settled beside her. “Natural doesn’t mean much these days, does it?” she said gently. “I know you’ve told me before, but I can’t let go,” Laura whispered after a pause.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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