Footsteps neared the door. I spun around and bolted down the stairs. Once I got into the kitchen, I yanked open the freezer and grabbed the largest tub of ice cream I could find. Sinking onto the barstool, I dug in. Scoop after scoop, the icy sweetness coated my tongue, numbing my senses, freezing my thoughts. My stomach twisted in protest, but I kept eating, shoveling it in like I could bury everything I'd just overheard. Ice cream used to be my favorite food. But for months, I'd denied myself, following every strict regimen to prepare my body for pregnancy. Convinced that my body was failing me, I endured a barrage of medications and daily injections, all in the desperate hope of conceiving. Little did I know, Derek had been secretly dosing me with hormonal pills, disguised as vitamins. I couldn't hold my tears back any longer. My tears spilled over, an unstoppable flood, and the salty mix with the ice cream triggered a wave of nausea. Putting my hands over my mouth, I re
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