**The Clock is Ticking**
*”So, what do we do, Doctor?”* Lucys voice trembled. Years of trying, tests, tearsand now, this final hurdle, a renowned specialist with a blunt reputation.
*”What do you do? Live. Or”* His gaze flicked between her and Alex. *”Find someone else. Youre nearly forty, love. The clocks ticking. You can still have a childjust probably not with him.”*
Colleagues called Professor Steins honesty 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, left with nothing by forty. He believed in cutting losses, no matter how painful.
*”You dont believe in miracles, Doctor?”* Lucy asked. *”You think weve got no chance at all?”*
*”Theres always a chance. But I believe in statistics,”* Stein said flatly. *”And they dont lie. 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 is often psychological. Your call.”*
Lucy had been warned about Steins bluntness. Hearing it secondhand was nothing compared to living it.
The car ride home was silent.
*”Find another husband.”* The words hung between them like poison. Lucy stole glances at Alexthe man shed weathered every storm with. *Leave him? After all weve built?* The thought was unthinkable.
*”Maybe its karma,”* Alex finally muttered. *”We spent years chasing money, never thinking about kids”*
*”Dont,”* Lucy cut in. *”We have each other. Honestly? Im done trying. Lets just liveus two. We were happy before, werent we?”*
Alex squeezed her hand.
Ten years together. Not just partnersa team. Theyd split everything: from the first posh sandwich after a big deal to sleepless nights building their business. No time for kids; their success was their baby. The house, the car, the holidaysall earned together.
After that appointment, Lucy let go. They adopted two catssomething theyd always wanted but put off for a *maybe baby*. Bought a cottage on the outskirts of London. Stopped obsessing. *If it happens, it happens.*
Then, a year and a half latera miracle. Two pink lines.
James was born. Lucy threw herself into motherhood, textbook-perfect. Alex buried himself in work, the model provider. From the outside? Picture-perfect. A marriage that had survived infertility, crowned with a late miracle. But even the strongest rocks crumblenot from quakes, but slow, silent erosion.
Lucy was five years older. Theyd met at twenty-two, bonded over ambition. Shed always led; hed followed. The struggle for a child had united thembut also planted a quiet, unspoken sorrow. After James arrived, Lucy forgot about Alex. They werent husband and wife anymore. Just *Mum* and *Dad*.
—
The day it happened was ordinary. A routine check-up at the clinic. Long corridors smelling of antiseptic, kids wailing. Alex sat with James, lost in thought. Then *she* walked ina woman with a six-year-old boy. Not stunning, but alive in a way that crackled. Their eyes locked. Neither looked away. A few seconds. Thats all it took.
*”Dad?”* James tugged his sleeve.
Alex startled. *”Nothing, mate.”*
He stood, went to the water fountain. Their eyes met again. He said *something*. Just a few words. But it was lightninga quiet, shattering strike that burned his old life to ashes.
Her name was Emily. They talked for an hour in that waiting roomabout marriages theyd suffocated in, lives passing them by, quiet despair carried for years. Not just attraction. *Recognition.*
—
Two weeks later, Alex came home late. Lucy waited with dinner. *”Alex, James missed you today”*
He walked in still wearing his coat, face hollow yet lit from within. *”Lucy. We need to talk.”*
Her stomach dropped. *”Whats wrong?”*
*”I met someone,”* he blurted, avoiding her eyes. *”And I realised our whole lifes been a lie. A comfortable, pretty lie.”*
Lucy went cold. The room swayed. *”Whatwhat are you saying? We have a *family*!”*
*”I havent *breathed* in years!”* His voice broke. *”I functioned. Played the perfect husband, the perfect dad. But I wasnt *alive*. Now? Now I am.”*
*”And me?”* she whispered, tears falling. *”Our love? James? Was none of it real?”*
*”I thought it was love,”* Alex said tiredly. *”Turns out it was habit. I cant pretend anymore. Ill see James.”*
He left. Just like that.
—
The first months were hell. Lucy went through the motionsfeeding James, bedtime storiesthen cried into her pillow, raking over every crack in their “perfect” life. Anger, grief, self-pityall knotted together.
Then one night, tucking James in, she didnt say *”Daddys working.”* She said, *”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. The world, which had shrunk to playgrounds and naptimes, widened again.
There, she ran into Stevenan old schoolmate. The one whod passed her silly notes in class. His marriage had ended too. They started meetingno grand romance, just coffee, walks, nostalgia. And Lucy realised she could just *be*. Tired, flawed, *herself*.
—
Their wedding was quietno frills, just signing papers, then a countryside getaway with James. Steven never tried to replace Alex. He was just *there*helping with homework, fixing bikes, teaching James to fish. No drama. No fuss. Slowly, Lucys heart healed.
At forty-three, when she found out she was pregnant, she braced for the *”clocks ticking”* speech. But Steven just held her. *”Well manage. Together.”*
The birth was rough. Afterwards, the midwife smiled. *”Second baby after forty? Brave woman.”*
*”Not brave,”* Lucy murmured, gazing at her daughter. *”Just with the right man.”*
—
Three years later, dropping her daughter at nursery, Lucy bumped into Alex. *”You look great,”* he said. *”Heard youre doing well.”*
*”Yeah,”* she said simply. *”I am.”*
That afternoon, on impulse, she looked up the clinic. Professor Stein still worked there. A legend.
She walked into his office. He barely glanced up.
*”You wont remember me,”* she said. *”Years ago, you told me to leave my husband if I wanted a child.”*
Stein braced for anger.
*”I came to thank you,”* Lucy said, smiling. *”Your truth wrecked my world back then. I didnt listenbut life found its own way. A messier one. Thank you.”*
Stein nodded. After she left, he stared out the window. He didnt remember her. After forty years, patients blurred together. Only the stubborn ones stuckthe ones clinging to illusions.
Outside, Lucy took her daughters hand. For the first time in years, the *”ticking clock”* didnt haunt her. Just gratitudefor both her lives. The one with Alex, and this one, *real* one, with Steven. Both had shaped her. Both mattered.
