Chapter 6

I splashed cold water on my face, changed into clean clothes, grabbed my bag, and walked out of the house without a single backward glance.

I didn't go to Petrico Hospital; I didn't want to see Grace's hesitant face again.

I grabbed a cab and headed straight to the Women's Health Center, the top OB-GYN hospital in the city.

I believed the doctors here would give me the most accurate answer.

I checked in, queued up, and waited.

For the first time in forever, I felt unexpectedly calm.

I could hear the icy electronic voice from the ticket machine echoing through the hall.

"Next up, number 36, Helen Quinn, please report to room 3."

I took a deep breath, got up, and pushed open the door.

The doctor was Lucy Grant, a middle-aged doctor who looked sharp and professional.

She wore gold-rimmed glasses and had a gentle demeanor.

"What's bothering you?" she asked while tapping away at her computer.

"I'm forty-five, and I haven't had a period in a year." My voice stayed calm. "But a few days ago, my period came back out of nowhere."

Lucy paused her typing and looked up at me, her expression serious. "Have you gotten checked at a hospital?"

"Yeah. I went to Petrico Hospital for it."

"And the results?"

"The doctor didn't tell me the results." I paused. "She called my husband in alone and talked to him for a long time.

"After that, my husband completely lost it with me."

Lucy frowned, "He didn't tell you what the results were?"

I shook my head. "I think I might be pregnant."

Lucy looked genuinely surprised.

"Did your husband have a vasectomy?" she asked, her tone direct.

"Yeah." I nodded. "He had a vasectomy over ten years ago."

Lucy's face turned grave. She paused for a few seconds, then said, "Go get a blood test and an ultrasound first. Let's go by the facts."

"Okay."

I took the slip she gave me, paid the fee, got my blood drawn, then lined up outside the ultrasound room.

Every second of waiting felt like pure agony.

My palms were clammy with cold sweat.

I was scared.

If I really was pregnant, how would I deal with Michael's suspicion and insults?

But if I wasn't, what terrible illness could be causing this post‑menopausal bleeding?

My mind was torn apart by conflicting thoughts.

Suddenly, the nurse called, "Helen Quinn."

I stepped into the dim room and stretched out on the cold examination table.

The doctor spread the chilly gel across my lower abdomen.

The probe glided slowly over my belly.

I stared fixedly at the black‑and‑white monitor beside me.

I could not make sense of anything; all I saw was blurry static.

The only sound in the room was the steady beeping of the machine.

Time seemed to stretch on forever.

The doctor didn't say a word the whole time.

With every silent moment, my heart sank a little deeper.

I couldn't hold back anymore, my voice shaking. "Is something wrong?"

The young ultrasound doctor glanced up at me, her gaze complicated.

"You can get up now. Your attending doctor will talk to you about the results," she said.

My heart skipped a beat.

I knew this routine all too well.

The doctors only said that when there was a problem.

My hands shook so badly I could barely hold onto the thin ultrasound report.

I didn't dare read what was written on it.

I practically dragged myself back to Lucy's office and handed her the report.

Lucy took it, then pulled up my blood test results on her computer.

Her brows drew tighter and tighter.

The room was so quiet, it was almost suffocating.

I could even hear my heart pounding wildly.

Finally, I worked up my courage. "Dr. Grant, what's wrong with me?"

Lucy looked up and adjusted her glasses, her eyes full of sympathy and gravity.

"Ms. Quinn," she said. "Based on your test results, your situation is truly unusual."

She used the exact same word as Grace: unusual.

My heart clenched tight.

"First," Lucy pointed to a number on the blood test report, "your HCG levels are way above normal. That means you're pregnant."

Even though I'd had a hunch, my mind still went blank the moment Lucy confirmed it.

I really was pregnant, while Michael had been sterilized for more than ten years

"Second," Lucy continued, pointing at the ultrasound report, "the scan shows there's a gestational sac in your uterus."

She paused "But this gestational sac looks strange."

"Strange?" My heart jumped into my throat.

"Yeah." Lucy's expression turned extremely grave. "This isn't a normal pregnancy sac. From the way it looks, it's more like a trophoblastic tumor."