He tried to steady himself. Maybe something had failed. Maybe the impossible had happened.
But then he remembered the follow-up appointment. The sterile room. The doctor’s calm voice.
“You’re completely sterile. Zero sperm.”
Zero.
Rachel rocked the baby gently, unaware of the storm tearing through him. In that moment, an invisible distance grew between them.
Weeks passed, and the guilt became unbearable. One morning, in a moment of panic, Ethan did something he would later regret deeply. He took the baby’s pacifier, sealed it in a bag, and sent it to a private DNA lab in Dallas.
Ten days, they said.
Ten days of mental torture.
