I No Longer Dream of Tender Nights

On the fifth year of their marriage, finding the vitamin C her husband bought tasted too bitter, Jeanne Dotson went to the hospital with the bottle.

The doctor took one look and frowned. "This isn't vitamin C."

"I-I'm sorry, Doctor?"

"I could say it a dozen times and it'd still be the same," the doctor replied, pointing at the bottle. "This is Mifepristone. Taking too much of it doesn't just cause infertility—it can do serious harm to your body."

Jeanne felt a lump stuck in her throat, and her fingers turned pale from clenching the bottle. "That's impossible. My husband got this for me. His name is Darren Walsh—he's a doctor here too."

The doctor looked up at her, his expression turning strange, tinged with something she couldn't quite read. After a pause, he gave a small smile. "Miss, you might want to visit the psych ward instead. We all know Dr. Walsh's wife—she gave birth just two months ago. Don't let your imagination run wild, all right? There's no point."

The Bitter Truth

The doctor unlocked his phone and pulled up a photo. In it, Darren Walsh stood in a white lab coat, cradling a baby in his arms. Beside him was a woman smiling sweetly into the camera—Alyssa Carver, the so-called sister he was always talking about.

There was a sharp ringing in Jeanne Dotson's ears as her mind went completely blank. The doctor had just told her that the woman in the picture was Darren's wife—and that the baby was theirs.

Her breathing grew heavy and uneven. Stumbling toward the elevator, she hit the button for the 15th floor, desperate to find Darren and demand an explanation.

But as the doors slid shut, two familiar voices drifted in. Maybe it was because she was bundled up with her hat pulled low, but the men didn't recognize her—and they didn't bother to lower their voices.

"Darren, aren't you afraid Jeanne will find out? Why did you beg her to marry you in the first place? If you'd just married Alyssa earlier, you wouldn't have to sneak around like this just to see your kid."

It was Finn Carver's voice.

"She won't find out," Darren said, his voice cold. "Keep it to yourself, got it? When you see Jeanne, you'd better know what to say and not."

"I just don't get you," Finn snorted. "Alyssa's been living with your family since she was five, practically your fiancee. You adored her growing up, and yet you ended up falling for Jeanne instead. You sent Alyssa away, then went through all that trouble to bring her back. Who the hell do you really love?"

It was a long moment before Darren spoke again. "I love Jeanne. But I can't let go of Alyssa. Thinking about how she struggled overseas all those years… it messes with my head. Jeanne already has the tittle of my wife—let Alyssa have the child. At least she'll have something to hold on to."

Finn sighed. "And what if you and Jeanne have a child one day? You really think you'll treat them both the same? Alyssa's my cousin, you know."

The elevator chimed just then, and Darren's voice overlapped with the sound of the doors sliding open. "That won't happen."

Finn blinked, confused—unsure whether Darren meant there wouldn't be a child, or that he wouldn't play favorites. Jeanne, however, understood perfectly. He was saying they wouldn't have a child—he'd already made sure of it. He'd been feeding her sterilization pills, eliminating any "risk" for the girl who grew up with him.

People entered and left, making the elevator stuffy and hot, but Jeanne felt as if she'd plunged into an icy lake. She was freezing from the inside out. Only when the elevator descended back to the first floor did she finally gasp for air, coughing as if she'd just broken the surface after nearly drowning.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket. The screen lit up with a message from Darren—an image of a plane ticket and a line of text. 'See you at the race tomorrow. Don't forget to wear the lucky charm I got you.'

Her emotions burst through all at once, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Darren was always busy at the hospital, but ever since their wedding, he had never missed a single one of her races. Even if it meant catching a red-eye flight, he was always there at the finish line. He would book a restaurant, buy her flowers, celebrate her win—year after year, without fail.

She remembered how his friends used to tease her, calling her the one Darren had fought the world to bring home. To make her return from overseas, he had battled international racing clubs, risking his career more than once. To keep her, he'd poured his savings into building a motor racing club just for her, complete with a top-tier coaching team.

And after they married, he had spoiled her beyond reason. She once murmured in her sleep about missing her mother, and by dawn, Darren had used every connection he had to retrieve her late mother's belongings.

That was the kind of man Darren Walsh had been—yet he'd been living a double life all along.

Suddenly, everything clicked for Jeanne. No wonder Alyssa knew the Walshes' home better than she did. No wonder someone who had supposedly lived abroad could name all his friends and their nicknames. No wonder this so-called sister could make him cancel half a year's worth of surgeries just to accompany her to racing events.

There was no so-called sister. She was the fiancee chosen for him as a child—the girl promised to him long before Jeanne ever came along.

Just moments ago, Jeanne had been thinking that if Alyssa dared to interfere, she would never tolerate it. But now she realized she was the one who had intruded. She was the outsider—the one who should be stepping away.

A bone-deep chill crept up her legs, freezing her from the inside out.

She had always thought that when people broke down, they screamed and sobbed. But now she knew the truth—real heartbreak was silent. Only tears and the weight in her chest told her how much it hurt. It felt as though an invisible hand had wrapped around her heart, squeezing until the last drop of blood was wrung dry.

Her phone vibrated again. This time, it was a message from Alyssa—a family photo accompanied by a message. 'Stop clinging to something that was never yours. I thought you'd have the decency to back off, but I guess not. Darren says the baby looks just like him. Don't you think so too?'

Jeanne glanced at it once and closed it.

If Alyssa wanted him, she could have him. But Jeanne knew Darren too well—he never let go of what he'd claimed as his, even when he no longer wanted it.

Her trembling fingers hovered over the dial pad for a long time before pressing a number she'd nearly forgotten. The call connected, and her voice came out shaking. "Foster… does that old bet of ours still count?"