I pursed my lips. "My child died in my stomach when I was just about to deliver."
The doctor pondered for a very long time before saying slowly, "Miss, judging from your condition, you just need to take extra care and you should be fine-provided you're not planning to have kids. If you have plans to conceive, I'm afraid it'll be hard. You’re not in good health to begin with, and now that your uterus is bleeding, it can easily endanger both the mother’s and the baby's lives. I'm sure the doctors you visited previously have told you that you can't have any more kids."
His words came down like a basin of cold water, soaking me all the way down to the soles of my feet.
"The baby must have struggled when they were in your womb as the lining of your uterus is wounded. Even if your eggs are fertilized, it’ll be hard for the fetus to survive in your uterus."
After a pause, the doctor continued, "Besides, at your age, whether or not you can conceive is another question altogether. Even if you do manage to conceive, you may not be able to deliver the child smoothly. My suggestion for you is to stop trying for a child and start taking care of your body."
I was completely deaf to whatever he said after that.
When I stepped out of the hospital and got hit by the wind, I got even dizzier.
How absurd could life get? Just as one was filled with hope to start anew, reality gave one a hard slap across the face, making it impossible to move on.
"Wanda." A man's voice rang out behind me.
I turned around and looked at the man in a daze.
It had been so long since I last saw Matthew. He seemed much haggard and weary now.
He said to me in a deep and low voice, "Let's talk.”
I frowned and replied coldly, "We have nothing to talk about."
He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. "Do you find me that loathsome?"
I pursed my lips and was not going to say anything else.
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