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"Mrs. Haynes, I regret to inform you that the IVF procedure has failed again," the doctor said.
In response, Chelsey Haynes stared down at the report she was holding, and the paper trembled slightly as cold crept into her fingers.
By then, she could no longer remember how many times she had heard the same verdict.
During her seven years of marriage, the entire Haynes family waited for her to conceive. Despite all that hope, her body never answered their expectations.
Over the years, she had explored every option available—conceiving naturally, alternative remedies, IVF, and even surgery—yet nothing changed.
Moments later, Chelsey pivoted toward the doctor's office, intending to knock. However, she stopped when voices drifted through the closed door.
"I honestly feel sorry for Mrs. Haynes. Her uterine lining is extremely thin. By forcing herself to keep trying, she is only damaging her own body."
"She really is pitiful in a misguided way. The truth is, her husband does not want children at all. Because of that, no amount of effort on her part will ever matter."
Those words hit Chelsey with brutal force, as if a bolt of lightning had torn through her chest, and she stood there, unable to move her raised hand.
Did her husband truly not want her to conceive? The thought echoed in her mind, and she struggled to accept what she had just heard.
...
Back at the house, Chelsey drifted to the bedroom in a fog and folded herself onto the mattress. Even with the early summer sunlight spilling warmly through the window, an unsettling cold clung to her skin.
Without warning, the bed dipped beside her, and a sharp scent of alcohol mixed with a faint, woodsy note filled the air.
From behind, her husband, Brett Haynes, wrapped his arms around her and slid his warm hands beneath the silk of her nightgown.
"Did you miss me?" he muttered, his voice low and intimate.
Normally, his touch would have sent a tremor through her body, but instead, her chest felt colder with each passing second.
Earlier that day, he knew she had gone to the hospital for the IVF results, and yet he never asked a single question.
"We failed to have a baby again," she said quietly, her throat rough as the words left her mouth.
At that, Brett's hands stopped, and the pause lingered longer than she expected.
Breaking the silence, he finally spoke in an even, detached tone. "This must be difficult for you. I'll be away on a business trip for two months. Make sure you look after yourself, and ask the housekeeper to prepare some nourishing soup."
Afterward, his lips pressed against her skin in slow, lingering kisses, heavy with alcohol and marked by the familiar heat and dominance she knew all too well.
Reluctance weighed on Chelsey, yet resisting him was impossible.
He was always careful with her and never caused her pain.
Once it was over, Brett lifted her gently and brought her into the bathroom. He washed her with quiet patience. After that, he settled her back into bed and held her until sleep claimed her.
In that moment, the night mirrored so many others they had shared, tender and wrapped in warmth.
From the outside, they would have looked like a deeply devoted couple.
Beside her, Brett's breathing gradually evened out, but Chelsey remained awake, staring into the dark.
Soon, her eyes drifted toward the briefcase Brett had casually left on the couch earlier.
Throughout their seven years of marriage, she had never searched through his belongings, an unspoken boundary she always respected as his wife.
Tonight, however, something shifted within her. As she watched Brett sleep, she quietly slipped out of bed.
Not long after, she uncovered a blister pack of small white pills hidden beneath a stack of documents.
Those pills were contraceptives.
Shock rooted Chelsey in place as she stared at them in disbelief.
Because she had been preparing her body for pregnancy, she had never used such pills, and she had only glimpsed them once at a friend's house by accident.
Back then, that friend even joked about how deeply she and Brett loved each other, saying they would never need contraception.
Now, the truth arrived with cruel speed. Even though she was somewhat prepared for this after hearing the conversation in the hospital, she sensed her heart breaking apart.
What could it possibly mean for a man claiming to want a child to keep contraceptive pills with him? Was it proof of an affair? Or something even worse?
Chelsey's racing thoughts stopped short when she remembered how Brett constantly insisted the housekeeper prepare nourishing soup for her. A chilling speculation took shape: could it be that he was spiking it with the pills?
At that realization, a deep cold spread through her from head to toe.
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