Chapter 3He Banished Me to the Desert

I scheduled a full panel at the clinic the next day.

The specialist stared at my chart, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Margo, looking at these numbers..."

"Give it to me straight."

"Severe endometriosis, coupled with advanced ovarian decline."

She pushed her glasses up her nose.

"The chances of you conceiving naturally are practically zero."

I gripped the edge of the printed report so hard the paper sliced into my thumb.

"Is it because of the desert?"

"Chronic stress, severe sleep deprivation, physical exhaustion, and exposure to extreme temperatures..."

The doctor offered a sympathetic smile.

"You're still young. If we start aggressive hormone therapy now, there might be a sliver of hope."

Walking out of the clinic, the hallway felt suffocatingly long. It was lined with pregnant women. They were rubbing their bellies, glowing with a soft, quiet kind of joy.

One husband was kneeling on the linoleum, pressing his ear against his wife's stomach to listen for a kick.

I turned my shoulder, slipped past them, and pushed open the heavy fire door to the stairwell.

It was empty and echoing.

I sank to the concrete steps and buried my face in my knees.

Don't cry.

If you cry, they win.

Three days later, the company hosted its annual gala.

I planned to skip it, but Rachel practically dragged me out of my chair.

"You're a senior engineer. Skipping makes you look like a coward."

I threw on a plain black slip dress and stood in the darkest corner of the ballroom.

The bass from the speakers thumped in my chest. The chandeliers were blinding.

Christopher and Lily made their entrance, and the crowd swarmed them like royalty.

"Mr. Reed! Lily! Congratulations!"

"Number two on the way! You guys are truly blessed!"

Lily beamed, her manicured hand resting protectively over her slight bump.

Christopher had his arm locked around her waist. He looked down at her with a gaze so soft and devoted it made my stomach turn.

A few people noticed me lingering in the shadows. Whispers rippled through the crowd before they went back to clinking glasses.

Lily spotted me. She wove through the crowd, her bump leading the way.

"Margo. Long time no see."

I took a slow sip of my champagne.

"Congrats."

"Thanks."

She stroked her stomach.

"We did the early genetics test. It's a girl. Christopher is over the moon. He keeps saying he wants her to look exactly like me."

She took a step closer, dropping her voice so only I could hear.

"You know what's funny? Christopher told me that if he hadn't shipped you off, he would have dragged his feet for years trying to choose between us."

"What's your point?"

"My point is," she smiled, showing perfectly white teeth, "thank you for stepping aside. If you hadn't made that little sacrifice, we wouldn't have this beautiful life."

My hand started to shake.

A drop of champagne spilled over the rim, soaking into my black dress.

"Lily," I locked eyes with her, "do you have any idea what happened while you were carrying your first kid? I was out in the Mojave. It was freezing at night. I was running a hundred-and-four-degree fever in a metal trailer, completely delirious. I almost died."

She blinked, utterly unfazed.

"And?"

"I called him. Seventeen times. He never picked up."

"Oh, that was our anniversary."

Her smile deepened.

"He was helping me pick out my wedding dress."

I took a sharp breath, the air burning my lungs.

"It was an Oscar de la Renta," she added casually. "The limited edition one with the pearl embroidery on the bodice."

I had tried that exact dress on five years ago.

Christopher had stood outside the fitting room and told me, "When we get married, that's the one."

He just never meant we.

I slammed my glass down on a passing waiter's tray and headed for the exit.

Christopher materialized out of the crowd, blocking my path.

He looked at me, his jaw tight.

"Margo..."

"Don't say my name."

My voice was dead.

"You make me sick."

I pushed through the revolving doors. It was pouring outside, the city lights bleeding into a blurry mess of rain.

I stood under the awning, letting the cold air hit my face.

Footsteps echoed behind me.

Christopher had followed me out.

He held out a sleek black umbrella.

"Take it. You're going to freeze."

"Why do you care?"

He went quiet for a second.

"I know you hate me."

"I don't hate you."

I looked at him, feeling nothing but a vast, hollow emptiness.

"I just feel stupid for wasting five years of my life on a stray dog."

"Those five years..."

"Those five years," I cut him off, my voice slicing through the sound of the rain, "I was working sixteen-hour shifts in the dirt. My periods stopped for months at a time. My hair was falling out in clumps. I survived every single day by telling myself I was coming home to marry you."

The color drained completely from his face.

"And you," a dark laugh escaped me, "spent those five years getting married, playing house, and knocking her up twice."

"I'm sorry."

"What is that word supposed to do for me?"

I took a step toward him.

"Christopher, you are so pathetic I can't even muster the energy to hate you. You just make me feel like a joke."

The rain was coming down in sheets now.

He opened the umbrella, trying to step closer to shield me.

I smacked his hand away and walked out from under the awning, straight into the storm.

The water was freezing, soaking me to the bone in seconds.