After more than ten brutal rounds of IVF, I was finally pregnant. Troy had oligospermia, and we'd spent years chasing this dream. But while I was hunched over the toilet, dry-heaving from morning sickness, he was out celebrating his three-year anniversary, with his secretary.

Louise had the audacity to post a WhatsApp status: The boss is so caring... I'll work for him until I die...

She even attached a picture of Troy, all smiles, carefully slicing her steak.

Swallowing back the nausea, I liked the post.

Seconds later, my phone rang.

Troy's voice was sharp with irritation. "What's your problem now? All you do these days is puke. Louise is handling everything for me. You should be grateful she's making your life easier."

I let out a cold laugh. "Sure. I'll be sure to thank her later."

"You weren't like this before! What, you get pregnant and suddenly forget who you are?"

Then he hung up on me.

I sighed. Maybe he was right, I had forgotten. After being away for so long, I barely even remembered my own last name.

I picked up my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in years.

"Charlie, book me a flight for tomorrow morning. I'm going back to Chicago."

My longtime assistant practically shouted, "Miss Hoffman, did I hear that right? You've been gone for six years! Are you serious this time?"

I rested a hand over my barely rounded belly, lips curling into a bitter smile. "Yeah. This time, it's real."

After hanging up, I scheduled an appointment with the best obstetrician in Houston, for an abortion that afternoon.

When I stepped into the exam room, Dr. Grant, the same doctor who had guided me through every painful step of IVF, froze.

"Felicia... this baby took over ten IVF cycles. Are you sure about this?"

The nurses, who had seen me go through hell and back for this pregnancy, turned to me in shock.

My face was pale, but my voice was steady. "I'm sure."

Troy and I had spent six years chasing a child. I had put my body through absolute hell, anemia, endless injections, heartbreak after heartbreak, refusing to give up. The day I finally saw those two pink lines, the doctors and nurses celebrated with me, saying even the heavens must have been moved by my perseverance.

Now, all of that felt like a sick joke.

Dr. Grant sighed and motioned for the nurse to prepare the procedure. As I signed the consent form, he hesitated. "Where's your husband? Doesn't he need to sign this too?"

I let out a hollow laugh. "He doesn't need to. I'll sign it myself."

Dr. Grant gave me a long, searching look, his eyes filled with something that looked a lot like pity.

When I got off the operating table, my phone buzzed. A message from Troy: Got a work dinner tonight. Won't be back.

Sent two hours ago. I didn't bother replying.

Just as I was about to put my phone away, another notification popped up, then a second one.

Louise.

The first was a picture, a deleted message.

Then, before I could react, she called. Her voice oozed fake sweetness, laced with just the right amount of fake distress.

"Oh, Felicia, I accidentally sent you a photo meant for my boyfriend. You don't mind, right? I've just been so exhausted working 22 hours straight... I must've sent it by mistake..."

I smirked. "Twenty-two hours? Does that include sleeping with your boss? You really are dedicated, taking your work to bed too. We should give you a certificate for Employee of the Year at the company awards."

Before she could stammer out a response, I hung up and blocked her.