I Am Not Barren

“Ah! My head hurts so much,” Liora held her head.

Liora slowly sat up, feeling her body shiver from the air conditioner. “It’s so cold … where am I?”

Thump!

“What did I do last night?!”

Liora jolted awake. Her breath caught. Her hand reflexively lifted the blanket—her chest stiffened instantly when she realized she wasn’t wearing a single thread of clothing.

“Aaa—”

Liora panicked, nearly screaming. Thankfully, she immediately covered her own mouth.

Turning her head to the side, Liora saw a man sleeping beside her. Calm. Cold. His authority was palpable even with his eyes closed. A sharp jawline, a broad chest, an aura of power that made Liora swallow hard.

“Who is he? Is he a gigolo?” she murmured softly, immediately sliding herself away.

Liora’s gaze fell to the wrinkled sheets beneath where her body had been—those red stains made her head buzz. A faint soreness struck her awareness.

This is real.

“I have to get out of here!”

With trembling hands, Liora got up. She dressed hurriedly, suppressing her shame and panic. From inside her bag, she took out some money and placed it on the small table.

“I’m sorry …,” she whispered softly, briefly looking at the handsome face whose eyes were still closed.

Without looking back, Liora left, descending the club’s stairs with unsteady steps. Her heart was shattered—shame mixed with anger—but one thing was clear: she couldn’t face that man again.

Within minutes, a taxi took her home. “The day has changed. I’m late coming home.”

Liora exhaled harshly as she thought of her husband and her mother-in-law.

As soon as she arrived home, a cold voice suddenly greeted her.

“Where have you been?”

Daren stood in the living room, his work suit neat. His gaze was flat, probing.

Thump!

“Daren!” Liora looked at him in shock, but as she remembered her husband’s betrayal, her face instantly turned just as flat—and cold.

“I stayed over at a friend’s place,” Liora replied shortly, holding back the tremor in her voice.

Daren sighed. “Next time, let me know,” he said. “I was worried.”

He stepped closer. His hand reached for Liora’s shoulder, his face lowering—about to kiss her.

Reflexively, Liora pulled away. Nausea surged. She turned her body, covering her mouth, nearly throwing up.

At that moment, the image of Daren with Camelia flashed in her mind—how they kissed, how they touched each other.

Remembering that, disgust flooded Liora. Even Daren’s touch now felt repulsive.

“Don’t touch me,” she said quickly, her voice trembling.

Daren froze, feeling something strange about his wife’s attitude. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked. “Are you sick?”

Liora chose silence. She lowered her head, trying to steady her breathing, but her head felt hot.

“Damn it.”

Liora hated herself for still being shaken by the man from last night, and at the same time hated Daren, who had deceived her all this time, betraying her without the slightest guilt.

“Liora, are you sick?” Daren repeated.

Before Liora could answer, footsteps approached from the living room.

“Out wandering again?” Martina appeared with a sour face. “A barren woman really has no shame, huh!”

“Mom … I am not barren, remember that!” Liora defended herself, her gaze sharpening. “Don’t accuse me like that again. If you’re curious why I haven’t been able to get pregnant until now, just ask Daren!” she continued, now staring at her husband with hatred.

Martina saw that Liora was starting to fight back, refusing to lose. “The proof is your fertility test results … you were declared barren, unable to give offspring!”

Disgusted, Liora turned to Daren again, demanding the truth. “Daren! Tell everything to your mother, or I will say it myself!” she pressed.

Hearing the insults toward his wife, Daren tried to intervene, while also avoiding Liora’s last words. “Mom, enough.”

“Don’t talk like that. And one more thing, Mom, it’s better if you don’t interfere in my marriage with Liora.”

“Like what, Daren? The fact is, your wife is nothing but a burden!” Martina sneered at Liora. “I won’t stop until I get a grandchild!”

Liora clenched her fists, holding back the pain in her chest. Every word Martina spoke stabbed like a sharp knife. She wanted to scream, to defend herself, but not a single word came out of her mouth.

Martina clicked her tongue. “Daren, I don’t want this family without an heir.”

“So, if she really can’t get pregnant, you’d better just divorce her. Marry again and give me a grandchild!” Martina stared coldly at Liora.

Daren massaged his temples, clearly overwhelmed. Then he remembered something. “Mom, stop controlling and interfering in my marriage.”

“I can’t. I’m already fed up seeing your marriage without a child. You’d better just do what I said earlier. Divorce her so you can marry another woman!”

Daren exhaled harshly. Then he remembered something—and he was sure what he was about to say would shift the conversation.

“Oh, right,” he said shortly, his gaze alternating between Liora and his mother. “Brother Ethan will be coming. Maybe tomorrow.”

Liora turned. “Brother Ethan … who is that?”

“My older brother, who’s been living abroad,” Daren answered without looking at Liora, his attention now focused on his phone.

Liora didn’t care about whatever Daren was doing. Right now, her focus was on that unfamiliar name that strangely made her curious.

“Ethan … who is he?”

A sense of curiosity crept into Liora’s chest—strange, unreasonable. But she was too tired, too ashamed, and too disappointed to ask further.

Feeling there was no point in staying in the same room, Liora walked to the bedroom, closed the door, then moved toward the bed.

Her sobs were muffled by the pillowcase, but her head was filled with images from last night.

“What should I do after this?” Liora wondered. “Should I divorce Daren? And about that man … I hope I never meet him again. Last night was just a mistake.”

On the other side, in the VIP room, Ethan began to stir. His eyes opened slowly. He looked to the side—Liora, the woman from last night, was gone.

“Where is she?” His gaze shifted to the bathroom—silent. No movement at all. “Has she already left?”

He raised one eyebrow, inhaling deeply, irritation rising. Then he reached for his phone.

“Hello, Sir,” Jack—his assistant—answered from the other end.

“Find the identity of the woman who was with me last night,” Ethan ordered, his voice low and firm.

“Yes, Sir,” Jack replied.

The call ended.

Ethan looked around the room—empty, silent. His eyes stopped at the money Liora had left on the bedside table. A thin smirk formed on his lips, his eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“Shit! What does she think I am, huh?!” he muttered, his fingers touching the stack of money before tossing it aside.

For a moment, Ethan recalled the heated night—the touches, the bold, wild gaze that awakened something inside him.

“Shit! I want her!” he cursed in frustration.

Ethan stood, leaning against the table, staring blankly at the spot where Liora had been. His smile was thin, but deeper now, as if hiding a secret and a growing obsession.

“Sooner or later … we will meet again.”