The Clocks Ticking
So what do we suggest, Doctor? Lucys voice trembled. Years of tests, tears, and hope had led them hereto the final word from a renowned specialist.
What do you do? You live. Or His gaze flicked from her to Alex, you find another partner. Youre nearly forty, love. The clocks ticking. You could still have a childjust likely not with him.
Professor Stones bluntness was seen as a flaw by colleagues, but patients called it cruelty. To him, it was the only mercy he knew. Hed watched too many women waste years on false hope, left with nothing by forty. He believed in cutting losses, no matter how brutal the slice.
You dont believe in miracles, then? Lucy asked. You think weve no chance at all?
Theres always a chance, but I trust statistics, Stone said flatly. And theyre ruthless. Better a bitter truth than a sweet lie stealing your last years. Try new treatments if you want, but the fact isyoure both healthy. Unexplained infertility often has psychological roots. Work that out yourselves.
Lucy had been warned about Stones roughness. But hearing it herself was different.
The car ride home was silent.
Find another husband hung in the air like poison. Lucy studied Alexthe man shed weathered every storm with. Leave him? After all theyd built? Their shared struggles, their quiet victories? For some vague chance at a baby with a stranger? It wasnt worth it.
Maybe its karma, Alex finally muttered. All those years we didnt want kids, just focused on money
Dont, Lucy cut in. Weve got our love. Honestly? Im tired of trying. Lets just liveyou and me. Were happy as we are. Werent we?
Alex squeezed her hand.
Ten years together hadnt just been marriagetheyd been partners in everything. From splitting their first fancy sandwich after a big deal to late nights building their business. No time for kids; their success was their baby. The house, the car, the holidaysall theirs.
After Stones verdict, Lucy let go. They adopted two catsput off for years just in casebought a cottage in Cornwall, and gave up the fight. Fate knew best, they decided.
Then, eighteen months latertwo lines on a test.
James arrived. Lucy adored motherhood, the picture-perfect mum. Alex buried himself in work, the model provider. From the outside, they were rock-solid. A marriage that survived infertility, crowned by a miracle. But even rocks crumblenot from quakes, but slow, seeping erosion.
Lucy was five years older. At twenty-two, Alex had been her eager partner in work and life. Shed always led; hed followed. The baby struggles bound them, but planted quiet sorrow too. And once James came, Lucy forgot Alex entirely. They werent husband and wife anymorejust mum and dad.
***
The fateful day was ordinary. A routine check-up at the GP. A hallway reeking of antiseptic, wails of toddlers. Alex sat with James, lost in thoughtuntil the door opened.
Her. A woman with a six-year-old boy. Not stunning, but crackling with restless energy. Their eyes met. Neither looked away. Seconds stretched, but it was enough.
Dad? James tugged his sleeve.
Alex startled. Nothing, mate.
He stood, walked to the water fountain. Their eyes met again. He said somethingjust a few words. But it was lightning. A quiet strike that burned his past to ash.
Her name was Emily. They talked for an hour in that waiting roomabout marriages that suffocated, lives slipping by, quiet despair carried for years. Not just attractionrecognition. A bolt illuminating every lie theyd lived.
***
Two weeks later, Alex came home late. Lucy waited with dinner.
Alex, Jamie missed you
He didnt remove his coat. His face was gaunt, yet alive.
We need to talk.
Her stomach dropped. Whats wrong?
Ive met someone. He couldnt look at her. And I realised our whole lifes been a lie. A pretty, convenient one.
Lucy froze. The room swayed.
Whatwhat are you saying? Weve a family! A son!
I havent breathed in years, Lucy! His voice broke. I functioned! Played perfect husband, perfect dadbut I wasnt alive. Now? Now I am. First time in fifteen years.
And me? Tears spilled. Our love? Our years? Jamie? Was none of it real? You swore you loved me!
I thought it was love, he said wearily. Turns out? Habit. Duty. I cant fake it anymore. Im sorry. Ill see Jamie.
He left. The door slammed. Lucy sat amid cold food, the kitchen clock ticking loud.
The clocks ticking, love. An echo from the past.
***
He vanished. Left the house, the life, the past. Moved to Edinburgh with Emily and her son, leaving Lucy with a shattered heart and a five-year-old asking when Daddyd tuck him in again.
The first months were hell. Lucy moved roboticallyfeeding Jamie, weeping into pillows at night, raking over where her perfect life cracked. Rage, grief, self-pityall tangled.
But one bedtime, she didnt say Daddys working. She told the truth: Daddy lives somewhere else now. But he loves you. Saying it freed something in her too. Time to grow up.
Lucy cut her hair, went blonde, dug out her old degree, and enrolled in a refresher course. Her shrunken worldplaygrounds and nappiesexpanded again.
There, she ran into Markher old schoolmate. The one shed passed silly notes with. His marriage had ended; his daughter lived with her mum. They met for coffee, walks, reminiscingno grand romance, just easy companionship. And Lucy realised: she could be tired, imperfect, unpolished. Herself.
***
Their wedding was quietno dress, no fanfare. Just a registry office, then a drive to the countryside with Jamie.
Mark didnt force fatherhood. He was just therehelping with homework, fixing bikes, teaching Jamie to fish. No drama, no strain. Slowly, Lucys heart healed.
At forty-three, when she realised she was pregnant, she dreaded telling himbraced for clocks ticking remarks. But he just held her. Well manage. Together.
The birth was hard. The midwifekind, sharp-eyedsmiled as the healthy girl arrived.
Second baby after forty? Brave of you.
Not brave, Lucy murmured, exhausted. Just with the right man.
***
Three years later, dropping her daughter at nursery, Lucy bumped into Alex. He smiled.
You look well. Heard lifes good.
It is, she said simply. Properly good.
That afternoon, on impulse, she looked up the clinic. Professor Mark Stone still practised. Legend.
His office hadnt changed.
You wont remember me. Years ago, you told me to leave my husband to have a child.
He frowned, braced for anger.
I came to thank you. Lucy smiledno bitterness left. Your truth wrecked my world then. I didnt listen, but now I seeyou helped me. Life just took a longer path. Thank you.
Stone nodded silently. After she left, he stared out the window. Of course he didnt recall her or Alex. After forty years, thousands of couples blurred. He remembered only diagnosesand the stubborn hope of patients clinging to dreams.
Outside, Lucy took her daughters hand. The little girl chattered brightly. For the first time in years, the clocks ticking brought no dreadjust quiet gratitude for both her lives. The one with Alex, and this one, real and whole, built with Mark. Both had shaped her. Both were necessary.
