PRESENT DAY.

  He was above me. His fingers gripped my hair while he thrust into me hungrily. 

  My hands were pinned to my side, with each movement making my head bob.

  We had been going at it for hours, and now my body ached. I wanted him to stop; I had had enough.

  “Tom,” I whispered.

  “Tom,” louder this time.

  But he didn't listen. He never did.

  In the next minute he was done. He rolled over me, resting on his back, panting. I remained still. I waited to feel something. Love, ecstasy, satisfaction – but I felt nothing.

  This had to be it. I mean, I was in my fertile window when I suggested we try tonight.

  But yet again, it was still my fertile window some months before and the month before that.

  He walked to his dresser. His muscles flexed with his each step.

  He hadn’t even acknowledged what we had done.

  “You can go now,” he said, without turning back. His voice was distant and cold.

  That was it, my cue to leave the room like always.

  “Can’t I sleep here tonight?” I swallowed. “I really miss sleeping next to you.”

  He didn't even look at me. “No.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Then he turned. “When you are finally able to give me an heir, then we can consider that.”

  “But you know it's not my fault,” I winced.

  “Then whose fault is it, Selene, mine?”

  The room went silent.

  “We would be going to see Dr John Tomorrow,” he muttered.

  I jolted up in bed. My eyes widened. It was like I had heard it from someone else and not him.

  The last time I had suggested visiting a specialist, it didn’t end well.

  He had stood by the kitchen counter after breakfast, adjusting his tie for work.

  I kissed Amira goodbye as I watched the school bus drive away.

  I exhaled, wiping my hand over my top as I walked in.

  “Tom, Sophie knows a very good doctor we could go see,” I whispered; my voice shook.

  Silence.

  “We could run some tests, maybe even try IVF, and…”

  He spun around, his fingers curled into a fist.

  “What are you suggesting, Selene? That there might be something wrong with me?”

  My chest pounded. “No…not at all. I would be going through a series of tests as well. It’s just…”

  “I am not doing any of that, Selene. Don't ever bring this up again.” He adjusted his tie and made his way out the door.

  I stood, frozen, surprised at his reaction. “I am sorry,” I whispered.

  But he already slammed the door shut.

  I shuddered at the memory.

  “Really?” I asked.

  “Be ready by nine. I have a lot to do tomorrow,” he said.

  My lips parted to speak.

  I wanted to tell him that tomorrow was our anniversary.

  But then his phone rang.

  He picked it up with the speed of light; for a second I wondered who was calling.

  He smiled when he saw the number on the screen.

  He never smiled like that with me.

  “Hello. How are you doing?” He whispered into the receiver and walked towards the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  Soon enough the sound of his voice got drowned out by the sound of the shower.

  I sighed. I guess our conversation was over.

  The next morning I called in the babysitter.

  Amira stayed home; she was running a temperature, and I needed to keep an eye on her.

  “Daddy! Can you give me a kiss?” Amira yelled, stretching her arms out to Tom before he walked out the door.

  He leaned just enough for Amira to hear.

  “Daddy doesn't do kisses, Amira. Meet your mother,” he said.

  I watched Amira’s smile drop.

  The babysitter did too.

  “Hurry up, Selene,” Tom said, then walked out the door.

  I carried Amira into my arms and hugged her tightly.

  “Daddy is just in a rush, sweetheart, but I would give you all the kisses you want.” I planted kisses all over her face. 

  She giggled. “Stop, Mum, it’s too much.”

  “You deserve it, my princess.” I planted a kiss for the last time and handed her to the babysitter.

  “Please take care of her; if anything happens, give me a call,” I muttered.

  “You have nothing to worry about, ma'am.” She flashed a smile.

  “Bye, Mum,” Amira called out as I walked out the door.

  “Bye, princess,” I called out.

  Immediately I got into the car. Tom rolled his eyes and started the engine.

  “You pamper that girl Wey too much,” he said.

  “She’s your daughter too, Tom,” I muttered.

  He said nothing, adjusting the rearview mirror as he drove out.

  I turned the other way, looking out the window.

  I knew it was a lie, but I wanted him to love her just like I did.

  We drove in silence till he finally pulled up at the hospital gate.

  Doctor John was a man whose face was greased with years of experience; he didn't talk much when we told him why we came.

  Tom and I were taken to separate rooms for the examinations.

  After the examination, we sat by the reception.

  “Wait here; this might take a few hours,” the nurse said before spinning on her heels and walking off.

  Tom’s phone vibrated again, another quick smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. I stared at my hands; they wouldn’t stop trembling.

  The room felt oddly cold.

  I glanced at him, but he seemed oblivious of my unease.

  “Tom?” I whispered.

  “Huh?” he answered.

  “Have you forgotten what today is?”

  “What?” he muttered; he didn’t even lift his eyes from the screen.

  I sighed.

  My chest tightened. “Did you really forget?” 

  “I don't have time for games, Selene,” he snapped.

  I swallowed the sting and leaned back in my chair slowly. “Never mind then.”

  He kept typing. Smiling and typing again.

  We stayed that way for another hour.

  Then finally the door swung open.

  The nurse stepped in. Her expression was not giving anything away.

  “Mr and Mrs Harold, you may come in; the doctor’s waiting.”

I stood up first, my body trembling as we walked in.

  The doctor looked at his note.

  “Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.

  “Well, doctor, we trust in your expertise and hope you have good news for us,” Tom said.

  I clutched my bag, hugging it closer to my chest.

  “Well, there is good news and bad news. Which should come first?” the doctor said.

  I glanced at Tom and took in a deep breath.

  Tom leaned back in his seat.

  “I think we should hear the bad news first.”

  “Well,” the doctor said, clasping his hands together and looking over the rim of his glasses.

  “The bad news is, it seems that Selene’s ovaries are no longer producing healthy eggs.”

  I froze.

  Tom's brows furrowed, and he leaned forward.

  “Wha…what do you mean, doctor?” I stammered.

  “Your eggs are not being fertilised, ma'am.”

  Tom glanced at me and back at the doctor.

  “We have a daughter. She’s five,” he said.

  The Doctor sighed. “Well, things like this do happen over time; it could be hormones, stress or even age, but with proper treatments you should be pregnant in no time!”

  “Ca…can we see the results, Doctor?” I asked.

  “Sure, here it is.” He stretched it in our direction.

  I reached for it, but Tom beat me to it.

  The look on his face told me everything I needed to know.

  Then he handed it to me slowly.

  My name was boldly written across the top.

  Then just right underneath.

  Assessment: Patient exhibits premature ovarian insufficiency.

  My stomach twisted. The room spun.

  It felt like my body had suddenly stopped belonging to me. Like I had failed in the one place Tom needed me most.

  “No,” I shook my head. “This is wrong, Tom. It's not true.”

  He wasn't listening. “How do we go about treatments, doctor?”

  He leaned back on his chair. “It would be a series of fertility shots, healthy diets and exercise, but nothing too serious.”

  “Thank you very much; we will be in touch,” Tom said, standing up.

  I reached for his arm, but he swatted it away.

  I turned to the doctor, wishing I could plug his eye out for delivering such news.

  Tears threatened to spill.

  “Thank you for ruining my life, doctor.”

  “I am sorry, ma'am; I was only doing my job.”

  I slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out. I slammed the door behind me.

  Tom was already in the car. His jaw tightened.

  “Tom, please…” I sobbed.

  “I don't want to hear it. “Get in, Selene,” he snapped.

  I stepped in hurriedly. My chest pounded.

  He didn't even wait for me to shut the door before speeding off.

  I leaned my head against the windowsill. Tears ran down my cheeks.

  I couldn’t believe it. Infertile. After all these years, I wished I’d never suggested seeing a specialist.

  We drove in silence. The only sound was the blaring horn from the cars that swerved past us as we moved between lanes.

  Finally, he pulled up at the front of the house.

  “I am sorry,” I whispered, my voice shaking.

  “Get out,” he commanded.

  “What?” I asked, shocked.

  “Now!”

  I stared at him. His gaze pierced into mine.

  My eyes widened.

  He was serious.

  My legs trembled as I stepped out of the car. The wind felt like it slapped my wet cheeks. I stood there, hugging myself, feeling small.

  He drove so fast the tyres screeched.

  “Forgive me, Tom,” I called to the disappearing car.

  I stood there for what felt like hours.

  Then finally, I wiped my eyes with the back of my sleeves before walking into the house.

  Inside, the house was quiet.

  Amira was asleep.

  “I hope she wasn't much trouble?” I asked the babysitter.

  “No, she was wonderful, and her temperature is back to normal.”

  “Thank you so much,” I said, fighting back tears. The doctor's words replayed in my head.

  “Could you stay here for an extra hour? I would pay.” I asked.

  “Sure, ma'am, I would be delighted too,” she squealed.

  “Thank you.”

  I made my way to the kitchen.

  I had an idea.

  He was angry, yes—but maybe I could soften him. Steak and mashed potatoes… his favourite. He needed a good lunch.

  My fingers moved mechanically, cracking eggs, washing potatoes, and seasoning the meat.

  Cooking had always been the one way I could still feel useful to him. Maybe—just maybe—if he tasted something he loved, he would remember he once loved me too.

  I placed the steak on the plate, my hands trembling. Would he even eat it?

  I walked out the door, the food neatly packed in a box.

  I didn't want to lose Tom, not after all these years.

  I got in my car and drove in the direction of his office.

  Tom was the proud CEO of his late father's company. He never let me come here with him except when he had forgotten an important document and he needed it.

  I could feel the eyes on me as I walked through the lobby—employees pretending not to stare, whispering behind the computer screens.

  I forced my shoulders up. I wasn’t here to embarrass him. I just wanted to fix things.

  At the top floor, the secretary blocked my part.

  Her arms were folded over her chest with an annoying pout on her lips.

  “Ma’am, Mr Harold strictly warned me not to let anyone in.” She twisted her feet nervously.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Mr Harold is my husband. So if you will excuse me”

  “Maa…m”

  I brushed past her, pushing her aside. I never liked that woman.

  She followed behind.

  “Ma’am, you really shouldn’t…”

  My chest pounded.

  I placed my fingers on the door of Tom's office door, exhaling.

  I imagined how he might smile when he saw the meal.

  I pushed it open.

  I heard voices before I even stepped fully inside. The sight before me made my stomach twist.

  “Tom!”

  The box slipped from my fingers to the floor.

  The contents spilt over.

  “I warned you,” the secretary muttered.

A blonde woman sat on Tom’s lap, her arm draped over his shoulder as she sat crosleged over his Lap, their faces close enough to touch.

  My chest tightened, my legs felt like jelly, and for a second I couldn’t breathe.

  Tom stood up abruptly, pushing her gently aside.

  My voice quivered. “What's the meaning of this, Tom?”

  Tom's brows quivered; he pointed a finger in my direction. “You, what are you doing here? Haven't I warned you to not come here uninvited?”

  “Who is this Tom?” the lady asked.

  I glanced at her — and recognised her instantly.

  I couldn't mistake her for anything.

  Lisa, Tom’s first love.

  My heart dropped.

  “Sadly, she's my wife, Lisa,” Tom said, his fingers curled tightly by his side.

  My heart finally shattered into a million pieces.

  “Sadly?”

  He turned to the secretary. “I told you not to allow anybody in.”

  “Sir, I tried to stop her, but…”

  “Get out,” he commanded.

  She turned around sharply and walked out.

  “You didn't tell me you had a wife, Tom,” Lisa said, from behind me.

  “I didn't think it… important.”

  Tears ran down my cheeks. My legs threatened to give way.

  I spun around and walked out of the office, taking the stairs two at a time.

  I felt the piercing gazes as I half ran through the lobby on the ground floor, but I didn't care.

  The air felt too contaminated to breathe.

  I walked fast towards my car.

  “Selene!” Tom called from behind me.

  I didn't stop.

  I stopped at the car and fidgeted with the door handle.

  He held my wrist and spun me around.

  “You are overreacting, Selene,” he muttered.

  “Overreacting?” I jerked my hand away. My chest pounded. “You bring your first love to the office hours after getting a devastating report while I was at home struggling to make your favourite meal?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Listen, okay, Lisa’s really sick, and she needs someone at her lowest. I am only helping.”

  I stared at him. For a moment I wanted to believe him. I wanted him to wrap me in his arms and take me inside and tell me he just wanted to surprise me for our anniversary. 

  “By bringing her to your office to warm you up, Tom? What does her being sick have to do with your infidelity?” I sobbed. The words hung in my throat.”

  “Look, now isn't the right time to talk about this. We would meet at home.” He walked past me and opened the door. “Go and freshen up, Selene.”

  I stood, gazing at him. This wasn't the Tom I had married on the pulpit that day.

  I steadied myself and walked into the car.

  He shut the door and waited. Till I drove out of the premises.

  I never looked back.

  I knew there was trouble when I overheard his sister's excited voice when she spoke to Marilyn, Tom's mother, about Lisa coming back a few weeks back.

  “I am so excited, Mother. Aren't you Tom?” She nudged Tom at the dinner table.

  Tom had pretended not to care, but I caught the curve of his lips before he rolled the pasta into his mouth.

  She had left without a trace after Tom had an accident a few years ago.

  The diagnosis was that he wouldn't walk again. But he did.

  Tom was heartbroken; he claimed he would never love again.

  A rumour sufficed that he wasn’t interested in women. That wasn't a good reputation for his father's company.

  Our marriage was a form of damage control.

  I wailed. Tears blurred my vision as I drove.

  All my years of dedication thrown down the drain.

  I couldn't go home. I couldn't let Amira see me this way.

  I drove to Sophie's house. My best friend for the longest time.

  As I stepped down from the car, she opened the door and walked out.

  “Sophie,” I called out in between sobs, unable to stand without wobbling.

  She ran to me, pulling me into a hug. “What's wrong, Selene?”

  I tried to speak, but the tears wouldn't let me.

  “Let’s go inside,” Sophie said.

  She guided me in carefully. We sat on the sofa while she stroked my hair.

  I buried my face in her shoulder, taking in her scent. My body trembled.

  Slowly, the tears wavered.

  She pulled me back and wiped at my eyes.

  “Here is a tissue.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “What’s going on, Selene?”

  I snorted, “It's Tom.”

  She drew back, venom on her lips. “That man – what did he do this time?”

  “I caught him, Sophie, with Lisa. They were making out.” Tears spilt out again.

  She got up angrily. “What! How dare he? That's a piece of shit.”

  “Oh Sophie, I am so heartbroken.”

  She scrunched her face like I had said the most irritating thing ever. “Heartbroken Selene? You should be angry. You should be done with that man. You have endured a lot.”

  “I know, but what about Amira? She needs a father,” I muttered.

  “She doesn't need a father, Selene. She has you. I am here too, and that's more than enough.”

  “But…” I began.

  “There is no but, Selene. You need a divorce.”

  My head snapped. It was the first time we had said the word out loud.

  “Mmhm,” she nodded.

  I sank deeper into the sofa, my hands clutching the edge of the cushion. Sophie’s words echoed in my ears. Divorce…

  I thought of Amira, of all the years I had given to Tom, of every time I had swallowed my pride to keep our fragile peace. My chest tightened. Could I really let go?

  I wiped at my tears; my fingers trembled.

  I closed my eyes and exhaled shakily. “Maybe… maybe it’s time,” I whispered.

  But even as the words left my lips, I felt doubtful. Was I ready? Could I survive letting him go?

  The memory of Amira earlier today asking for a hug from Tom and him shunning her made my fingers dig into my palms.

  I wasn't going to let him dictate my life in this way anymore. I just couldn't.