The Appointment That Broke Everything
Seven years later, on a rainy Tuesday, Celeste suggested one last specialist. Dr. Bell reviewed my history, ran tests, then closed his folder and said plainly: “There is no evidence you have ever been infertile.”
The room tilted. “My first marriage ended because we thought—”
“Then someone gave you false information.”
I left without a word to Celeste. Back home, I found a message from an unknown number: If you ever cared about Maren, go to St. Matthew’s Hospital now.
A photo was attached: Maren in a hospital hallway, two children beside her. The boy had my childhood curls; the girl my eyes. They looked about seven.
I drove straight there.
