CHAPTER SIX #6
“Another person may be able to carry an embryo, but we would need to determine whether retrieving viable eggs is medically possible and safe in your case. I don’t want to make promises before completing that evaluation.”
“So there might still be a baby that’s biologically ours?”
“There may be options worth exploring,” Dr. Bennett said. “But you would not be able to carry the pregnancy yourself.”
Melissa’s gaze dropped again. John understood immediately. It was not only motherhood she was mourning. It was the experience she had imagined. The growing life beneath her heart. The first kick. The rounded stomach. The birth.
A stranger carrying her child might offer a path forward someday, but it could not return what had just been taken from her.
“What about adoption?” John asked, his voice strained.
Dr. Bennett looked at both of them.
“That can be a beautiful way to build a family. But it is a separate decision, with its own process and emotional considerations. Neither of you needs to decide anything now.”
Melissa wiped her face.
“How long do we have to wait?”
“To pursue other options?”
She nodded.
“Physically, I would want to coordinate with your surgical team and make sure your recovery is stable. Emotionally, there is no correct timeline.”
“I don’t want to wait.”
“Mel,” John murmured.
She sat upright, pulling away from him.
“I’ve already lost enough time.”
“You just received a lot of information.”
“I know what I heard.”
Her voice sharpened, then immediately broke again.
“I can’t have a baby. So we need to figure out what we can do.” Dr. Bennett remained calm.
“The desire to act immediately is understandable. Sometimes making plans helps people feel less powerless. But grief can also make every decision feel urgent. You are allowed to stop for a moment.”
Melissa stared at the floor.
“If I stop, then I have to think about it.”
John reached for her hand once more. She allowed him to take it. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said.
Melissa looked at him.
“What if you want your own children?”
“They would be our children.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“What if you want a wife who can give you that?”
“Melissa.”
“What if you wake up five years from now and hate me?” “I could never hate you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Her tears began again.
“You always talked about being a dad.”
“And I still can be.”
“But not because of me.”
John moved closer, taking both of her hands.
“Look at me.” She resisted at first.
“Melissa.”
Slowly, she raised her eyes.
“I didn’t choose you because of what your body could give me,” he said. “I chose you because I love you.”
Her lips trembled.
“We’ll explore every option when you’re ready. We’ll get another opinion. We’ll ask every question. And if our family doesn’t look exactly the way we pictured it, then we’ll make a new picture.”
Melissa searched his face.
“You still want that with me?”
“More than anything.”
“You’re sure?”
He nodded.
“I’m sure.”
She leaned forward until her forehead rested against his. John closed his eyes. He could feel the warmth of her breath, broken by quiet sobs.
“Together?” she whispered.
His chest ached.
“Together.”
The same promise. The same word. Only now it carried the weight of everything he still had not told her.
Dr. Bennett gave them a folder containing copies of Melissa’s results, information about second opinions, and the number of a counselor who specialized in infertility. Melissa held the folder against her chest as they walked through the clinic.
She kept her head down. The photographs along the hallway seemed different now. Earlier, the smiling infants had represented possibility. Now each one felt like proof of a world she had been permanently excluded from.
Near the exit, a pregnant woman stood at the reception desk. One hand rested beneath the curve of her stomach while the other held an appointment card. The man beside her bent down and whispered something into her ear. She laughed.
Melissa stopped walking. John noticed where she was looking. “Come on,” he said softly.
She did not move.
The pregnant woman thanked the receptionist and turned toward the door. As she passed, Melissa stepped aside and offered a faint, automatic smile. The woman smiled back. Then she and her partner disappeared outside. Melissa stared after them.
“She looked happy.”
John’s hand settled against her back.
“Mel…”
“I’m happy for her.”
“I know.”
“I am.”
Her eyes filled once more.
“I just hate that it hurts to look at her.”
John guided her gently toward the exit.
“You don’t have to feel guilty for hurting.”
The moment they stepped outside, the city rushed around them. Car horns. Footsteps. Voices.
Life continuing as though their entire future had not just changed inside a quiet office on the fourth floor. Melissa stood beneath the awning and looked up at the cloudy afternoon sky.
“I don’t want to go home yet.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t want to talk to my mom.”
“You don’t have to.”
“And I don’t want anyone telling me everything happens for a reason.” “I won’t let them.”
She looked at him.
“Can we just drive?”
John nodded.
“We can drive.”
The ride began in silence. Melissa rested her head against the passengerside window, watching the city blur past.
The folder remained unopened in her lap.
John drove without choosing a destination.
He passed their street. Then the park. Then the restaurant where he had first asked her to be his girlfriend. Neither of them mentioned it.
After nearly twenty minutes, Melissa spoke.
“Did I cause it?”
John glanced at her.
“What?”
“The accident.”
“No.”
“I know I was in the car, but I can’t remember anything.”
“You didn’t cause it.”
“What happened?” His hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“You know what the police report said.”
“I know what it said.”
She turned toward him.
“I’m asking what you remember.”
John’s jaw tensed.
“Not much.”
It was partly true. There were sounds he remembered more clearly than images.
Metal tearing.
Glass breaking. Melissa screaming. Then the hospital. Her mother crying. The doctor’s voice. She’ll never be able to carry children.
“I keep thinking that maybe I did something wrong,” Melissa said. “You didn’t.”
“Then why do I feel like my body is punishing me?”
John pulled the car to the side of the road. He shifted into park and turned toward her fully.
“This is not your fault.”
Melissa stared at the folder.
“My body was supposed to protect them.”
“There were no children to protect.”
“Not yet.”
Her hand tightened around the papers.
“But someday.”
John swallowed. “The accident took that someday away.”
She began crying again, more quietly this time. Not the panicked sobs from the doctor’s office. This was something deeper. Heavier. Grief settling into the spaces shock had left behind. John reached across the console. Melissa leaned into his arms. He held her while traffic moved around them.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She assumed he was sorry for the diagnosis.
For the accident. For the life they had lost before it ever began.
She did not know he was apologizing for the hospital room.
For the promise he had broken. For every morning he had awakened beside her and chosen silence.
Melissa pressed her face against his neck.
“You didn’t leave,” she whispered.
“Never.”
“You still want me.”
“Always.”
She held him tighter. John stared through the windshield.
Two months earlier, he had convinced himself he was protecting her.
She was injured. Confused. Still struggling to remember the life she had lived before the accident.
He had told himself there would be a better time.
A safer moment. A day when she was strong enough to hear it. But that day had never come.
And now the truth no longer belonged only to him.
It lived inside every tear she cried. Every question she asked.
Every moment she blamed herself for not knowing sooner.
John closed his eyes and held her as tightly as he could.
He knew he should confess. He knew she deserved the truth.
But Melissa was still clinging to him as though he were the only solid thing remaining in her world.
And he could not bring himself to become another thing she had lost.
So he kissed her temple. Promised they would find another way. And allowed the lie to follow them home.
Adoption Agency (Six Months Later)
The waiting room smelled like fresh coffee and new carpet. Children's drawings covered one wall. Families smiled from framed photographs. Hope lived here. Melissa squeezed John's hand.
"So..."
She whispered.
"What do you think?"
John smiled.
"I think you're already going to be an amazing mom."
Melissa leaned against his shoulder. A social worker appeared in the doorway.
"Mr. and Mrs. Prescott?"
Melissa smiled every time she heard those words. Mrs. Prescott. It still sounded new. The couple followed her into a quiet office. She opened a thick folder. Looked down. Then slowly closed it again.
"I'm sorry."
Melissa's hopeful smile faltered.
"After carefully reviewing your application..."
The caseworker's expression softened.
"...we're unable to approve the adoption."
The room became very still.
"...What?" Melissa whispered. The caseworker folded her hands.
"Due to your recent psychiatric hospitalization..."
She spoke gently.
"...our agency cannot approve placement at this time."
Melissa blinked.
"But..."
Her voice trembled.
"I'm better."
"I know."
"I've done everything."
Fresh tears filled her eyes.
"I took my medication… I went to therapy." "I did everything you asked."
The caseworker's own eyes glistened.
"I believe you."
Melissa looked at her desperately.
"...Then why?"
The woman lowered her eyes.
"Our decision..."
She paused. "...is final."
Silence. John reached for Melissa's hand. She didn't notice. She simply stared at the denial letter. Reading the same sentence again. And again. As though the words might eventually change.
Outside... The afternoon felt strangely cold. Melissa walked silently toward John's truck. Each step slower than the last. John hurried after her.
"...Mel."
She stopped. Her back still turned toward him. After a long silence... She whispered,
"...Why..."