Chapter 1 · His Sterility. My Infertility. Our Miracle

That infertility diagnosis was like a shackle, holding me prisoner for seven long years.

My ex-boyfriend, Henry Smith, left me because of it.

My boss, Ruby Lynch, set me up with her son, who also couldn't have kids. She said coldly, "You two are a good fit."

We were like two stones forced into a cold, empty marriage, only to silence the gossip.

I thought that was how my life would play out.

But four months later, the doctor pointed at the ultrasound screen, his hands shaking. "No way. You're actually pregnant. And it's twins."

My contract husband, the man rumored to be cold as ice, pulled me into a crushing embrace, his eyes burning red.

Turned out, the miracle of life was the beginning of love.

*****

The harsh light from my phone screen reflected off my face.

Henry sent me a message: [Yara, I am sorry. My mom is threatening to kill herself if I don't obey. We are done.]

A drop of water slipped from the test tube in my hand, hit the lab bench, and vanished in an instant.

I stared at the message, expressionless. My chest felt hollowed out, like someone had scooped out my heart, leaving nothing but an empty cavity with cold wind howling through it.

Seven years.

Since I was twenty-two, when I received that diagnosis: primary infertility caused by a rare congenital uterine defect, those words became the death sentence for my life.

I'd been with Henry for seven years.

From naive college days to stepping into the real world, I thought our love was unbreakable.

But in the end, a single piece of paper was enough to tear us apart.

I remembered countless nights when Henry answered his mom's calls right there with me watching.

Every time, she'd be yelling on the other end, saying my family would die out, calling me a barren waste of space who was squatting in her son's life.

And every time Henry hung up, he'd go quiet.

That silence was more suffocating than any screaming match.

I understood everything. I never called it out.

I thought I could fight a little longer. I thought my career, my talent, could make Henry overlook my flaws.

But in the end, it was all just what I wanted to believe.

I'd already shed every tear I had.

Over those seven years, in every moment I was labeled barren, every time I saw someone else smiling down at their baby, my tears had already run out.

So when Henry told me it was over, I didn't cry.

I simply pressed delete, erasing the man who'd tangled up my life for seven years, along with that pitiful love, and sent them both straight to the trash.

The next day, I dragged myself back to the National Academy of Medicine with dark circles under my eyes.

As soon as I sat down, the internal phone rang.

The call was from the director's office.

"Yara, come to my office." On the other end, Ruby's voice was calm and emotionless.

Ruby was not only the director of the National Academy of Medicine, but also my boss. She was a true legend in the medical world.

My heart skipped a beat.

My gut told me this call had something to do with my personal drama.

*****

Ruby's office was spotless and meticulously organized, a perfect reflection of the woman herself.

The air was filled with a faint mix of disinfectant and the scent of books.

Ruby didn't look at me. She kept her head down, flipping through a document, going in circles from my latest research projects to the academy's future.

I listened in silence, feeling like a prisoner waiting for my sentence.

Finally, Ruby looked up, fixing me with a piercing stare. "Yara, I've heard about what happened between you and Henry."

I nodded, saying nothing.

"You're twenty-nine now. Not that young anymore," she continued, her tone as clinical as a research report. "I'm well aware of your medical condition."

Out of sight beneath my lab coat, my hand curled into a tight fist.

My nails dug deep into my palm, the sharp pain keeping me grounded.

Ruby paused, as if carefully choosing her words.

Finally, as if she'd made up her mind, she said something I'd never forget. "My son, Jayden Ludwig, will never be a father.

"You two are well-suited. Why not just make do and live together?"

A good match? I almost burst out laughing.

I never realized that phrase could sound so ugly. So cruel.

A woman who couldn't conceive. A man who couldn't father children. Like two defective products bundled together, solely so they wouldn't look so out of place. The irony was staggering.

A crushing wave of humiliation surged from my feet straight to my skull.

Chapter 1

That infertility diagnosis was like a shackle, holding me prisoner for seven long years.

My ex-boyfriend, Henry Smith, left me because of it.

My boss, Ruby Lynch, set me up with her son, who also couldn't have kids. She said coldly, "You two are a good fit."

We were like two stones forced into a cold, empty marriage, only to silence the gossip.

I thought that was how my life would play out.

But four months later, the doctor pointed at the ultrasound screen, his hands shaking. "No way. You're actually pregnant. And it's twins."

My contract husband, the man rumored to be cold as ice, pulled me into a crushing embrace, his eyes burning red.

Turned out, the miracle of life was the beginning of love.

*****

The harsh light from my phone screen reflected off my face.

Henry sent me a message: [Yara, I am sorry. My mom is threatening to kill herself if I don't obey. We are done.]

A drop of water slipped from the test tube in my hand, hit the lab bench, and vanished in an instant.

I stared at the message, expressionless. My chest felt hollowed out, like someone had scooped out my heart, leaving nothing but an empty cavity with cold wind howling through it.

Seven years.

Since I was twenty-two, when I received that diagnosis: primary infertility caused by a rare congenital uterine defect, those words became the death sentence for my life.

I'd been with Henry for seven years.

From naive college days to stepping into the real world, I thought our love was unbreakable.

But in the end, a single piece of paper was enough to tear us apart.

I remembered countless nights when Henry answered his mom's calls right there with me watching.

Every time, she'd be yelling on the other end, saying my family would die out, calling me a barren waste of space who was squatting in her son's life.

And every time Henry hung up, he'd go quiet.

That silence was more suffocating than any screaming match.

I understood everything. I never called it out.

I thought I could fight a little longer. I thought my career, my talent, could make Henry overlook my flaws.

But in the end, it was all just what I wanted to believe.

I'd already shed every tear I had.

Over those seven years, in every moment I was labeled barren, every time I saw someone else smiling down at their baby, my tears had already run out.

So when Henry told me it was over, I didn't cry.

I simply pressed delete, erasing the man who'd tangled up my life for seven years, along with that pitiful love, and sent them both straight to the trash.

The next day, I dragged myself back to the National Academy of Medicine with dark circles under my eyes.

As soon as I sat down, the internal phone rang.

The call was from the director's office.

"Yara, come to my office." On the other end, Ruby's voice was calm and emotionless.

Ruby was not only the director of the National Academy of Medicine, but also my boss. She was a true legend in the medical world.

My heart skipped a beat.

My gut told me this call had something to do with my personal drama.

*****

Ruby's office was spotless and meticulously organized, a perfect reflection of the woman herself.

The air was filled with a faint mix of disinfectant and the scent of books.

Ruby didn't look at me. She kept her head down, flipping through a document, going in circles from my latest research projects to the academy's future.

I listened in silence, feeling like a prisoner waiting for my sentence.

Finally, Ruby looked up, fixing me with a piercing stare. "Yara, I've heard about what happened between you and Henry."

I nodded, saying nothing.

"You're twenty-nine now. Not that young anymore," she continued, her tone as clinical as a research report. "I'm well aware of your medical condition."

Out of sight beneath my lab coat, my hand curled into a tight fist.

My nails dug deep into my palm, the sharp pain keeping me grounded.

Ruby paused, as if carefully choosing her words.

Finally, as if she'd made up her mind, she said something I'd never forget. "My son, Jayden Ludwig, will never be a father.

"You two are well-suited. Why not just make do and live together?"

A good match? I almost burst out laughing.

I never realized that phrase could sound so ugly. So cruel.

A woman who couldn't conceive. A man who couldn't father children. Like two defective products bundled together, solely so they wouldn't look so out of place. The irony was staggering.

A crushing wave of humiliation surged from my feet straight to my skull.