**The Clock Ticks Away**
Lydias voice trembled. «What should we do, doctor?» Years of attempts, tests, and tears had led them hereto the final authority, a professor with a renowned name.
«Do? Live. Or…» His gaze flicked from her to Alex. «Find another partner. You, my dear, are nearly forty. The clock is ticking. You can still have a childjust likely not with him.»
Professor Steins bluntness was considered a flaw by colleagues and cruelty by patients. But to Marcus Stein, it was the only mercy he could offer. He had watched too many women waste years on false hope, left with nothing by forty. He saw it as his duty to sever those ties, no matter how painful the cut.
«You dont believe in miracles, doctor?» Lydia asked. «You think we have no chance at all?»
«Chances always exist, but I trust statistics,» Stein replied curtly. «And they are merciless. A bitter truth is kinder than a sweet lie that steals your last fertile years. Use modern methods if you wish, but the truth is youre both healthy. Unexplained infertility often has psychological roots. Its your choice what to do next.»
Lydia had been warned of Steins brutal honesty. Yet hearing it directed at her was another matter entirely.
Silence filled the car ride home.
The phrase *»find another husband»* hung between them like poison. Lydia studied Alexthe man who had stood by her through thick and thin. *Leave him? After all these years? Share every hardship, every tear, only to abandon him for the slim chance of a child with another? It wasnt worth it.*
«Maybe its punishment,» Alex broke the quiet. «A sign. All those years we didnt want children, only cared about money…»
«Dont say that,» Lydia murmured. «We have our love. Truthfully, Im tired of trying. I just want to live. The two of us, happy as weve always been. We dont need children to be happy. Didnt we prove that before?»
Alex squeezed her hand.
For ten years, they had been more than husband and wifethey were partners, a team who split everything, from their first successful deals celebratory sandwich to sleepless nights building their business. There had been no time for children; their success was their child. The house, the car, the cottageall bore the marks of their shared effort.
After Steins verdict, Lydia finally relaxed. They adopted two catslong desired but postponed for the sake of a future babybought a modest townhouse, and abandoned the desperate pursuit of parenthood. Fate knew best, they decided, and embraced what life gave them.
Then, a year and a half latera miracle. Two pink lines.
James was born. Lydia revelled in motherhood, following every textbook rule. Alex buried himself in work, the model father and provider. To outsiders, they were the perfect couple, their marriage unshakable as stone. It had endured infertility and been crowned with a late miracle. Yet even stone crumblesnot from quakes, but from slow, seeping erosion.
Lydia was five years older than Alex. At twenty-two, they had bonded over shared ambitions, their union built on mutual respect. Yet she had always led, always guided him. Failed attempts to conceive had drawn them closer but planted a quiet, unspoken sorrow. With James arrival, Lydia lost interest in Alex. They ceased being husband and wife. They became mother and father.
***
The fateful day was unremarkable. A routine check-up at the clinic. The sterile corridor smelled of antiseptic and echoed with childrens cries. Alex sat with James, lost in thought. Then the door opened, and *she* walked in. A woman with a six-year-old boy. Not a beauty, but crackling with restless energy. Their eyes metneither looked away. A few seconds, but it was enough.
«Dad, whats wrong?» James tugged his sleeve.
Alex startled. «Nothing, son,» he muttered, avoiding the boys gaze.
He stood, moved to the water fountain. Their eyes locked again. Alexander spokejust a few words. But it was lightning. A silent, devastating strike that burned away his past in an instant.
Her name was Olivia. They sat in that waiting room for an hour and shared everythingfailed marriages, the sense of life slipping by, years of quiet despair. This wasnt mere attraction. It was *recognition.*
***
Two weeks later, Alex came home late. Lydia waited with dinner.
«Alex, James and I missed you…»
He entered the living room still in his coat, his face gaunt yet strangely alive.
«Lydia, we need to talk.»
Her stomach knotted. «Whats wrong?»
«Ive met someone else,» he exhaled, unable to meet her eyes. «And Ive realised… our whole life together was a lie. A beautiful, convenient lie.»
She froze. The room swayed.
*»What?* Who? Alex, wake up! We have a family! A son!»
«I havent *breathed* in years!» His voice cracked, raw with desperation. «I functioned! Played the perfect husband, the perfect fatherbut I wasnt *alive.* Now… now I can finally breathe!»
«And me?» she whispered, tears falling. «Our love? Our years together? James? Was none of it real? You said you loved me!»
«I thought it *was* love,» Alex said wearily. «But it was habit. Shared duty. I cant pretend anymore. Ill visit James.»
He turned and left, the door slamming behind him. Lydia sat motionless before the cold meal, the kitchen clocks ticking the only sound.
*The clock ticks, my dear…* Like an echo from the past.
***
He was gone. Left everythinghome, family, his old life. Moved to Edinburgh with Olivia and her son, leaving Lydia with a shattered heart and a five-year-old who didnt understand why Daddy wouldnt tuck him in anymore.
The first months were hell. Lydia moved mechanicallyfeeding James, putting him to bed, crying into her pillow at night, wondering where her perfect life had cracked. Anger, grief, self-pityall tangled together.
But one evening, tucking James in, she found the strength to say, *»Dad will live somewhere else now. But he loves you.»* Speaking to her son, she spoke to herself. It was time to grow up.
Lydia cut her hair, went blonde, dug out her old degree, and enrolled in refresher courses. The world, once shrunk to playgrounds, began expanding again.
There, she met Stephenan old schoolmate. The boy whod passed her silly notes in class. His marriage had ended; his daughter lived with her mother. They met for coffee, walks, reminiscing about teachers. No grand declarations, no pet names. And Lydia realisedshe could just *be.* Tired, imperfect, without the mask of «happy wife.»
***
Their wedding was quietno lavish dress, no reception. Just a registry office and a countryside drive with James.
Stephen never tried to replace James father. He simply *was* therehelping with homework, fixing bikes, teaching him to fish. No drama, no strain. Slowly, Lydias wounds healed.
At forty-three, when she discovered she was pregnant, fear gripped her. But Stephen just held her and whispered, *»Well manage. Together.»*
The birth was hard. The elderly midwife overseeing her smiled as a healthy girl arrived.
«Second child after forty? Brave woman.»
«Not brave,» Lydia murmured, gazing at her daughter. «Just… with a different man.»
***
Three years later, dropping her daughter at nursery, Lydia bumped into Alex. He smiled.
«Hello. You look wonderful. I hear lifes been good.»
«Yes,» she replied simply. «Truly good.»
That afternoon, on impulse, she looked up the clinics addressand the name. *Professor Marcus Stein.* Still practising. A legend.
She entered the same office. Stein barely looked older.
«Professor, you wont remember me. Years ago, you told me to leave my husband if I wanted a child.»
He frowned, bracing for anger.
«I came to thank you,» Lydia smiledno bitterness left. «Your truth shattered my world. I didnt listen, but now I seeyou helped me. Life just found its own path. Thank you.»
Stein nodded silently. After she left, he stared out the window. Of course, he didnt recall her. In forty years, thousands had passed through. He remembered only diagnosesand the stubbornness of those clinging to illusions.
Outside, Lydia took her daughters hand. The girl chattered happily. For the first time in years, the thought of *»the ticking clock»* brought no dreadonly quiet gratitude for both her lives. The one with Alex. And this one, real and whole, built with Stephen. Both had shaped her. Both were necessary.
