The Clocks Ticking
So what do we suggest, doctor? Lucys voice wavered. Years of trying, tests, tearsand now, the final hurdle, a renowned professor with a formidable reputation.
What do I suggest? Live. Or His gaze flicked between her and Alex. Find another partner. Youre nearly forty, love. The clocks ticking. You can still have a childjust likely not with him.
Colleagues called Professor Steins bluntness a flaw; patients called it cruelty. But for Dr. Mark Stein, it was the only mercy he knew. Hed seen too many women waste years on false hope, leaving them empty-handed by forty. He believed in clean cuts, no matter how painful.
You dont believe in miracles, doctor? Lucy asked. You think weve no chance at all?
Theres always a chance, but I trust statistics, Stein said flatly. And theyre heartless. Better a bitter truth than a sweet lie that steals your last good years. Try new treatments if you want, but the fact is, youre both healthy. Unexplained infertility often has psychological roots. Figure it out yourselves.
Lucy had been warned about Steins brutal honesty. But hearing it about your own life was different.
The car ride home was silent.
The words find another man hung in the air like poison. Lucy watched Alexher partner through thick and thin. Leave him? she thought. After everything weve built? Sharing every failure, every tear? For some vague chance at a baby with a stranger? Its not worth it.
Maybe its karma, Alex finally said. All those years we said we didnt want kids, just focused on work
Dont, Lucy whispered. We have each other. Honestly, Im exhausted. Maybe we just live. Just us. We were happy once, remember?
Alex squeezed her hand.
For a decade, theyd been more than husband and wifethey were a team, splitting everything, right down to their first celebratory sandwich after landing their big break. Their success was their baby. A flat, a car, a cottageall theirs.
After that appointment, Lucy let go. They adopted two catssomething theyd always wanted but postponed for a someday baby. They bought a cosy little house in the suburbs and abandoned the desperate pursuit of parenthood. Fate knew best, they decided.
Then, eighteen months latera miracle. Two pink lines.
Oliver was born. Lucy embraced motherhood, textbook-perfect. Alex buried himself in work, the ideal provider. To outsiders, they were the picture of happinessa marriage that survived infertility, crowned with a late miracle. But even rocks crumble, not from quakes, but from slow, creeping erosion.
Lucy was five years older. Theyd met at twenty-two, bonded over ambition. Shed always led; hed followed. The years of trying for a baby had brought them closer but left a quiet sorrow. And after Oliver arrived? Lucy forgot about Alex entirely. They werent lovers anymorejust mum and dad.
***
The day it happened was unremarkable. Just another clinic visit. A hallway smelling of antiseptic, echoing with kids cries. Alex sat with Oliver, lost in thought. Thenshe walked in. A woman with a six-year-old boy. Not stunning, but with this restless energy. Their eyes met. Neither looked away. A few secondsthats all it took.
Dad? Oliver tugged his sleeve.
Alex startled. Nothing, mate, he mumbled, standing abruptly.
At the water fountain, their eyes met again. He said somethingjust a few words. A spark. A quiet lightning strike that burned his past to ash.
Her name was Olivia. They talked for an hour in that waiting room, sharing everythingtheir stifling marriages, the years of quiet despair. This wasnt just attraction. It was recognition.
***
Two weeks later, Alex came home late. Lucy, as always, had dinner waiting.
Alex, Oliver and I missed you
He walked in still wearing his coat, face gaunt but oddly alive.
We need to talk.
Her stomach dropped. Whats wrong?
Ive met someone, he exhaled, avoiding her eyes. And Ive realised our whole life was a lie. A comfortable one, but a lie.
Lucy went cold. The room spun.
What? Who? Alex, wake up! Weve got a son!
I havent breathed in years, Lucy! His voice cracked. I functioned. Played the perfect husband, the perfect dadbut I wasnt alive. Now? Now I can breathe.
And me? she whispered, tears falling. Our love? Our years together? Oliver? Was none of it real?
I thought it was love, he said tiredly. Turns out it was habit. I cant pretend anymore. Ill see Oliver.
The door slammed. Lucy sat alone, the kitchen clock ticking loudly.
Tick-tock, love.
***
He left. Walked away from their home, their life. Moved to Bristol with Olivia and her son, leaving Lucy with a shattered heart and a confused five-year-old asking when Daddy was coming back.
The first months were hell. Lucy went through the motionsfeeding Oliver, bedtime storiesthen cried into her pillow, wondering where her perfect life had cracked. Anger, grief, self-pityall tangled together.
But one night, tucking Oliver in, she didnt say Daddys working. Instead: Daddys living somewhere else now. But he loves you. Saying it aloud made it real. Time to grow up.
Lucy cut her hair, went blonde, dug out her old degree, and signed up for a refresher course. Her world, shrunken to playgrounds, began expanding again.
Thats where she ran into James, an old schoolmate. The one shed passed silly notes with. His marriage had ended too. They started meetingno grand gestures, just coffee, walks, nostalgia. And Lucy realised: she could just be herself. Flawed, tired, no pretence.
***
Their wedding was quietno fuss, just a registry office and a weekend away with Oliver. James never tried to replace Alex. He just showed uphelped with homework, fixed bikes, took Oliver fishing. No drama. Slowly, Lucys heart healed.
At forty-three, she panicked before telling James she was pregnant. But he just held her and said, Well manage. Together.
The birth was rough. Afterwards, the midwife smiled. Second baby after forty? Youre brave.
Lucy laughed weakly, staring at her daughter. Not brave. Just with the right man.
***
Three years later, dropping her daughter at nursery, Lucy bumped into Alex.
You look well, he said. Heard lifes good.
It is, she said simply. Really good.
That afternoon, on impulse, she looked up Professor Steins clinic. Still practising. A legend.
She walked into that same office. He hadnt changed much.
You wont remember me. Years ago, you told me to leave my husband to have a child.
He braced for anger.
I came to say thank you, Lucy smiled, no bitterness. Your truth broke my world, but now I seeit helped. Life didnt go the way you predicted, but it worked. Thank you.
Stein just nodded. After she left, he stared out the window. Of course he didnt remember herthousands of couples had passed through.
Outside, Lucy took her daughters hand, listening to her chatter. For the first time in years, the ticking clock didnt scare her. Just gratitudefor both lives. The one with Alex, and this real one with James. Both had shaped her. Both mattered.
