When I glanced up at him, my gaze landed on the faint hickey peeking out from the nape of his neck. The sight sent a jolt through me, clearing the haze his charm had cast. The world slowed and every affectionate word he spoke turned hollow in my ears.
“Hubby,” I murmured, stepping back. My voice wavered but carried resolve. “Can I stop taking the ovulation injections? It’s been so long and I’m tired. I… I want to give up.”
His reaction was immediate. His dark eyes misted over and he reached for me, pulling me into his arms as though trying to shield me from my own words. “Dear,” he said, his voice filled with a tender ache, “you’ve worked so hard. But I really want a baby that belongs to us. Don’t you want to have a child for your husband?”
His words wrapped around me like a net, suffocating yet impossible to escape. He reached for the syringe, his movements steady but almost too rehearsed. “It won’t hurt, I promise. Hubby will do it for you, okay?”
I flinched, my heart pounding as I looked into his eyes. “Must I do this?” I whispered, desperate for a reprieve.
His gaze softened, filled with what appeared to be love—a love so deep and sincere it was almost cruel. “Definitely. Be good, it’s just one more step toward our dream.”
I nodded numbly, letting him press the needle into my swollen belly. The cold steel pierced my skin and pain surged through me like fire. My breath hitched as tears blurred my vision.
It hurt.
It hurt more than I could bear. But I said nothing.
***
For years, Harry had treated me with the utmost care, as though I were a treasure he couldn’t afford to lose. He noticed every shift in my mood, every fleeting sadness and he always found ways to coax me back into happiness. Yet now, as I sat here enduring the agony of this injection, I couldn’t understand.
Why did he pretend not to see my pain? Why force me to endure this when he knew I was breaking?
I swallowed my questions, biting down on my lip as he rubbed my stomach gently, his hand warm against my skin. His gaze was filled with concern, the kind that could fool anyone.
“I’m not going to work for the next few days,” he said softly. “I’ll stay home and take care of you until you feel better. Be good, okay? I’ll go make some soup.”
***
As he turned to leave, I called out to him, my voice catching. “Harry… I went to the hotel today. Those roses were beautiful.”