**The Clock is Ticking**
“So, what do we do, Doctor?” Lucys voice trembled. Years of trying, tests, tearsand now, the final authority: a renowned professor with a reputation for bluntness.
“What do you do? Live. Or…” His gaze flicked from her to Alex. “Find another partner. You, my dear, are pushing forty. The clocks ticking. You *can* have a babyjust probably not with him.”
Professor Steins colleagues called his honesty a flaw; his patients called it cruelty. But to him, it was the only mercy he could offer. Hed seen too many women reach forty, hollowed out by false hope. Better a sharp truth now than a sweet lie that stole years.
“You dont believe in miracles, Doctor?” Lucy asked. “You think weve no chance at all?”
“Chances always exist, but I believe in statistics,” Stein said flatly. “And theyre heartless. Better a bitter truth than a kind lie that wastes your last good years. Try new treatments if you like, but the truth is, youre both healthy. Unexplained infertility often has psychological roots. Figure it out yourselves.”
Lucy had been warned about Steins bluntness. But hearing it secondhand was nothing like having it aimed at *you*.
The car ride home was silent.
*Find another husband.* The words hung in the air like poison. Lucy stole glances at Alexthe man shed built a life with, weathered storms with. *Leave him? After all weve been? Share every failure, every tear, just to chase a maybe with someone else? Not worth it.*
“Maybe its karma,” Alex finally muttered. “All those years we didnt *want* kids, just money…”
“Dont say that,” Lucy said softly. “Weve got love. Honestly? Im tired of trying. Lets just live. The two of uswere happy. We *were* happy, remember?”
Alex squeezed her hand.
Ten years together, they werent just husband and wife. They were co-authors, a teamsplitting everything, from the first posh sandwich after their big break to sleepless nights over business plans. No time for kids; their success *was* their baby. The flat, the car, the holiday homeall their shared labour.
After Steins verdict, Lucy exhaled. They adopted two catslong delayed for a phantom babybought a cosy cottage in the Cotswolds, and let go of the desperate need to be parents. Fate knew best, they decided.
Then, eighteen months latera miracle. Two pink lines.
Andrew arrived. Lucy revelled in motherhood, textbook-perfect. Alex buried himself in work, the model provider. From the outside, they were solid as stonea marriage that survived infertility and crowned with a late miracle. But stone crumbles, not from quakes, but slow, seeping cracks.
Lucy was five years older. At twenty-two, Alex had fallen for their shared ambition, their bond built on respect and goals. But shed always led. Failed baby attempts had bonded themand seeded quiet despair. With Andrews birth, Lucy forgot Alex existed. They werent lovers anymore. Just Mum and Dad.
**The Day It Happened**
Nothing remarkable. A routine clinic visit. A corridor smelling of antiseptic and wailing toddlers. Alex sat with Andrew, mind adriftuntil *she* walked in. A woman with a six-year-old boy. Not stunning, but *alive* in a way that crackled. Their eyes met. Held. Just secondsbut enough.
“Dad?” Andrew tugged his sleeve.
Alex blinked. “Nothing, mate.”
He stood, went to the water fountain. Their eyes met again. He said something. Just wordsbut lightning. A quiet, ruinous strike that incinerated his past.
Her name was Olivia. They talked for an hour in that queuespilling everything. Dying marriages. Lives slipping by. Years of silent despair. Not just attraction. *Recognition.*
Two weeks later, Alex came home late. Lucy waited with dinner.
“Alex, we missed you”
He didnt take off his coat. His face was gaunt, yet glowing.
“Lucy, we need to talk.”
She froze. “Whats wrong?”
“I met someone,” he choked out. “And I realised… our whole lifes been a lie. A pretty, comfortable lie.”
Lucys vision swam. “What*what*? We have a family! A son!”
“I havent *breathed* in years!” His voice broke. “I functioned! Perfect husband, perfect fatherbut I wasnt *alive*. Now? Now I *am*.”
“And me?” she whispered, tears falling. “Our love? Our years? Andrew? Was none of it real?”
“I thought it was love,” Alex said wearily. “It was habit. Duty. I cant pretend anymore. Ill see Andrew.”
He left.
Gone. No flat, no family. Just Olivia and her boy, a new life in Edinburgh, leaving Lucy with a shattered heart and a five-year-old asking why Daddy didnt tuck him in anymore.
The first months were hell. Lucy functionedfed Andrew, sobbed into her pillow, raged at the ruins of her perfect life.
Then one night, she told Andrew the truth: “Dad lives somewhere else now. But he loves you.” Saying it aloud, she grew up.
She cut her hair, went blonde, dug out her old degree, took refresher courses. The world, shrunken to playgrounds, widened again.
Thats where she met Jamesher old schoolmate, the one whod passed her silly notes. Divorced, his daughter with his ex. They met for coffee, walked, laughed over old teachers. No grand romancejust *easy*.
**The Quiet Wedding**
No frills. Just a registry office, then a countryside drive with Andrew.
James never tried to replace Andrews dad. He just *was* therehelping with homework, fixing bikes, fishing. No drama. Slowly, Lucys heart healed.
At forty-three, pregnant again, she braced for “clocks ticking” remarks. James just held her. “Well manage. Together.”
The birth was hard. The midwifekind, oldersmiled as the healthy girl arrived.
“Second baby after forty? Brave.”
“Not brave,” Lucy murmured, gazing at her daughter. “Just… a different man.”
**Three Years Later**
Dropping her daughter at nursery, Lucy bumped into Alex.
“Hello. You look wonderful. Heard lifes good.”
“It is,” she said simply. “Truly.”
That afternoon, on impulse, she looked up Professor Stein. Still practising. A legend.
She walked into that same office. He hadnt changed.
“Professor, you wont remember me. Years ago, you told me to leave my husband to have a baby.”
He braced for anger.
“I came to thank you,” Lucy said, smiling without bitterness. “Your truth wrecked my worldbut it freed me. I didnt listen, but life found its way. Thank you.”
Stein nodded. After she left, he stared out the window. Of course he didnt remember her. Thousands of couples had sat there. He only recalled diagnoses and stubborn hope.
Outside, Lucy took her daughters hand. The girl chattered brightly. For the first time in years, “the clocks ticking” didnt sting. Just gratitudefor both her lives. The one with Alex, and this one, real and whole, with James. Both had made her who she was.
