The Scorned wife's revenge

Chapter 4

The report Came Back Clear.

I was still sitting in the hospital hallway when the nurse came back out, smiling kindly like she could already read the relief I hadn't earned yet.

"Mrs. Moreau," she said softly, "the doctor can see you now."

My legs felt heavy when I stood. The clinic smelled like disinfectant and fading perfume, and the kind of place where people come hoping for miracles and leave pretending to be brave.

Inside, the doctor smiled, and her hands folded on the table. "You look nervous."

I gave a small laugh. "Three years can do that to you."

She nodded slowly, flipping through my chart. "Well... you can relax now. Everything came back perfectly fine. Your hormones are normal as well as your ovaries, they are healthy. Your uterus are clear too and you're in good shape."For a second, I couldn't even speak because the words didn't sink in.

"I'm... fine?"

She smiled again. "Yes, Mrs. Moreau. You're fine."

My lips parted in a quiet breath. "So it's not me."

"No," she said gently. "You're heathy. Sometimes it takes time but if there's been difficulty, your husband should also be tested. Thay helps us know what's really happening."

My smile faltered, but I nodded. "I'll talk to him."

She wrote something on the paper and handed it to me. "This has the details for a joint consultation. It's just routine."

I took the paper with shaky hands. "Thank you."

When I stepped out, the nurse gave me a smile that felt too bright for the ache sitting behind my ribs. "Good news, right?"

"Yes," I said, though my voice sounded hollow. "Good news indeed."

I walked out of the hospital with the envelope clutched tightly in my hand. The city air hit my face, cool and sharp. But my heart was still burning from what I'd heard earlier from Damien, "I did as you asked."

He's said those words to his mother and now I had to pretend like I didn't hear them.

When I got home, the house was quiet. I dropped my bag on the couch and sat there, and the test results were still unopened in my laps.

I heard the front door click an hour later and Damien's footsteps followed slow and tired.

"Hey love," he said softly, walking in with a small smile. "You look like you've been thinking too much again."

I looked up at him. "I went to the clinic."

He froze, and his jacket was still halfway off. "You what?"

"I got my results." I held out the paper. "They said I'm fine and everything's normal."

His eyes flickered to the paper, then back to me. "That's good news."

"Yes." I smiled weakly. "They said maybe you should come in too. Just to do a joint test, and it's part of the next step."

The silence stretched and he set his jacket down and straightened slowly. "You think I'm the reason?"

The words hit harder than I expected. "No, Damien. That's not what I said."

"Then what exactly are you saying?" His tone wasn't loud, but it was sharp enough to sting.

I stood, my voice soft. "I'm saying maybe we should go together. That's what the doctor said and it helps--"

"I don't need to be tested," he cut in.

"Why not?""Because I'm fine."

I stepped closer. "But how do you know if you've never--"

"Elara," he snapped, his patience cracking. "Don't push this."

I swallowed hard. "I'm not pushing. I'm trying to understand and we've been trying for years, Damien. Don't you want answers?"

He turned away, running a hand through his hair. "You think I don't want a family? You think they doesn't eat me alive too?"

"Then why won't you come with me?"

He looked away back at me, and his voice begin shaking. "Because I can't stand sitting in some clinic while people whisper that the Moreau heir might be broken."

I blinked, tears burning my eyes. "Who cares what they whisper? We're supposed to be in this together."

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head. "You don't get it. You never get it. In this family, perception is everything and my mother would--"

"Your mother?" I cut in. "This isn't about her, Damien. This is about us."

His jaw tightened. "She's right about one thing though. You don't understand how things work."

The words hit like a slap on my face. "And what does that mean?"

He didn't answer.

"Damien," I said quietly, "if you love me, just come with me and let's do this together."

He froze for a moment, ans just long enough to hope to flicker in my chest before his expression hardened again.

"You think I'm the problem?"My breath caught. "That's not what I--"

"Say it," he said, his voice rising now. "You think I can't give you what you want?"

"Damien, please--"

He slammed his hand on the table, ans the sound was sharp and final, making me to flinch. "I said enough!"

I flinched again. The silence that followed felt deafening and he took his keys from the counter, his chest heaving. "I need some air."

"Damien, wait--"

But the door slammed before I could finish. The house went still again and I stood there in the kitchen, my hands shaking, and the paper was still in my grip. I looked down at it, at yeh proof that I wasn't broken ans somehow, it still felt like defeat.

The clock ticked loudly in the corner and the stew on the stove had gone cold.

I sat down slowly, staring at the doorway he'd walked through and my heart felt like it was folding in on itself.

He said he loved me, he said he didn't need anything more but love shouldn't sound like silence and slammed doors.

It was past midnight when I heard his car return. I didn't move but I sat in the same spot, with my hands wrapped around a mug of cold tea.

He came in quietly, with his face tired and his eyes dark. "You're still awake."

"Couldn't sleep."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "I shouldn't have shouted."

I nodded. "And I shouldn't have pushed."

He looked at me for a long time. "You're not the problem, Elara."

"I know." I forced a smile. "But neither are you."

He gave a short laugh, one that sounded nothing like laughter. "Let's not talk about this anymore. Please."

"Alright."

He walked closer ans brushed a kiss against my forehead. "Go to bed, I'll be up soon."

I nodded again and went upstairs but I didn't sleep. Because I could still hear his voice from that day at the clinic, whispering to his mother. "I did as you asked."

And I realized then that maybe this silence between us wasn't about pride or patience. But maybe it was about a secret he couldn't bear to tell me. And no matter how much I prayed, I knew something was about to break.