Chapter 4 - THE REPORT MY HUSBAND NEVER WANTED ME TO READ
"He told you I couldn't carry a baby?"
Sophia nodded.
I sat across from her in the bakery, feeling a strange heat rise through my chest.
Not sadness.
Not even jealousy.
Something sharper.
For six years, Lukas and I had walked into fertility clinics together.
I remembered every examination room.
Every uncomfortable question.
Every hopeful conversation that ended in disappointment.
And now he was telling another woman my body had failed him.
"Did he show you the report?" I asked.
"No. He said the doctor had confirmed it."
"He lied."
Sophia looked startled.
"We had two failed IVF cycles," I continued. "That doesn't automatically mean I can't carry a child."
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing for things he said. Tell me exactly what else you know."
She lowered her eyes.
"He told me your treatments had become emotionally difficult. He said you were starting to accept that motherhood might not happen."
I laughed once.
It sounded bitter.
"Three weeks ago, he asked if I wanted to try again."
Sophia stared at me.
"He told me you'd already scheduled a consultation with an adoption agency."
I shook my head.
"No."
"He said you were discussing adoption and would understand eventually."
I looked at the silver bracelet on the table.
An entire future had been planned around decisions I had never made.
I pushed the bracelet back toward her.
"Keep this. You may need it later."
"Why?"
"Because right now, it's one of the few things connecting Ingrid directly to this plan."
Sophia nodded and placed it in her purse.
Then she said something that surprised me.
"I loved him."
I looked up.
"Lukas?"
"Yes."
Her chin trembled.
"I know how foolish that sounds."
"It sounds familiar."
She stared at me.
"For months, he made me feel like I was the only person who understood him."
I remembered Lukas saying those exact words during our second year of marriage.
Back then, I had believed them completely.
"He told me you were distant," Sophia continued. "That you cared more about your job than your marriage."
I felt a hollow ache.
For years, I had rearranged my schedule around his needs.
I had taken unpaid time off for fertility appointments.
I had worked overtime to cover medical bills.
And somehow, I was the selfish one.
"Sophia, I need to go."
She looked frightened.
"Are you telling him?"
"Not yet."
"Please don't tell Ingrid I called you."
"I won't."
As I stood, Sophia reached across the table.
"Evelyn?"
I stopped.
"If this baby is Lukas's, I want my child to know the truth someday. But I don't want my baby growing up in a family where everyone lies."
I looked at her hand.
Then at her face.
"Neither do I."
That afternoon, I contacted our fertility clinic.
After verifying my identity, I requested copies of my records and the results from our most recent examinations.
The clinic explained that some older documents would take time to retrieve, but an online summary was available immediately.
I logged into the patient portal from my office.
For several minutes, I scrolled through laboratory reports and treatment summaries.
Then I found the most recent physician's note.
It was dated July 18.
My heart began pounding as I read.
The report did not say I could never carry a child.
It said our previous IVF attempts had failed and that further evaluation would be appropriate before recommending another treatment cycle.
The physician had specifically noted that no definitive conclusion about my ability to carry a pregnancy had been reached.
I read the sentence three times.
Then I opened the section containing our earlier evaluations.
Lukas had participated in testing years before.
At one point, the clinic had recommended additional follow-up for both of us.
He'd told me everything was normal.
But the records included a notation that he had declined a suggested repeat analysis.
I sat completely still.
He had spent years allowing me to blame myself.
While refusing to complete an evaluation that might have helped us understand what was happening.
I didn't know whether his decision had affected our chances.
But I knew one thing.
He had never told me.
I printed the records and placed them in a folder.
Then I called Margaret.
When I explained what I'd found, she didn't immediately offer an opinion.
Instead, she asked, "Did your physician ever tell you this?"
"No."
"Then ask for a medical consultation. Don't rely on Lukas's interpretation, and don't make your own conclusions from a report."
"I won't."
There was a pause.
"Evelyn, is there a reason your husband would benefit from people believing you're unable to have a child?"
I looked at the property settlement photograph.
"His family wants me to raise his mistress's baby."
Margaret was silent.
Then she said, "And if you're convinced you have no other chance at motherhood, they may believe you're easier to persuade."
The sentence made me feel sick.
That evening, Lukas came home carrying flowers.
White roses.
My favorites.
"Hey, beautiful."
He kissed my cheek.
"Rough day?"
"You could say that."
He handed me the bouquet.
"Mom asked me to remind you about Friday."
I set the flowers in water.
"Why is Friday so important?"
He loosened his tie.
"She's excited about a family announcement."
My hands stopped moving.
"An announcement?"
"Just some plans for the future."
I turned slowly.
"What kind of plans?"
He smiled.
"You're going to love them."
I studied his face.
"Are you sure?"
"Absolutely."
Then he stepped behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
"I know the last few years have been hard, Evie."
I stared at our reflection in the kitchen window.
"But things are finally going to work out."
I wanted to ask whether he meant for me or for Sophia.
Instead, I said, "What about our appointment with Dr. Reynolds?"
His arms tightened slightly.
"What about it?"
"I was thinking we should schedule another consultation."
His expression changed in the reflection.
"Maybe we should take a break from all that."
"Why?"
"Because you've been through enough."
I turned to face him.
"Have you?"
He blinked.
"What does that mean?"
"Have you been through enough, Lukas?"
He let go of me.
"Of course. We're in this together."
Together.
The word almost made me laugh.
Before bed, I checked the property records Margaret's office had helped me identify.
Our house remained in both names.
No transfer had been recorded.
But there was another detail.
A recently filed notice related to a different building in Chicago.
The registered agent was connected to Weber Family Holdings LLC.
And the address looked familiar.
It was the office building where Lukas had told me his company was relocating.
I pulled up the listing.
The building wasn't owned by his employer.
It was being offered for sale.
As I studied the photographs, one image caught my attention.
A framed architectural rendering hung on the wall behind the reception desk.
At the bottom was a name.
VANCE FAMILY RESOURCE CENTER.
I stared at the words.
Then my phone lit up with a calendar reminder Lukas had added to our shared account.
FRIDAY — FAMILY SIGNING DINNER.
There was an attachment.
A PDF titled:
May you like
EVELYN VANCE — CONSENT AND FAMILY CARE AGREEMENT.
And under the section marked Primary Caregiver, someone had already typed my name.
