Chapter 7: I'm Going Insane

JULIET

He slowly raised his head to meet my gaze, his expression entirely professional.

“Please have a seat, Mrs. Morales,” he said casually, as if I were nothing more than a routine patient.

I nodded instantly and lowered myself into the chair across from his, my entire body trembling.

His expression remained calm, but my mind was racing. My goodness, am I really this shameless?

Adrian stayed still, typing on his laptop. As a thick silence settled between us, the only thing I could hear was the hammering of my own heart—and I was terrified he could hear it, too.

“Based on your report here, you made a complaint about pain in your left breast. How is it feeling now?” he asked in a firm, professional voice.

I couldn't even look him in the eye. My gaze was fixed on my fingers, a cold shiver running continuously down my spine. My previous gynecologist was a woman; exposing my chest to her for a checkup was standard, but the thought of doing it in front of Adrian made my skin burn.

“Mrs. Morales, are you with me?” he asked softly, cutting through my spiraling thoughts.

I nodded and slowly raised my eyes to meet his. “It’s... it’s getting better,” I blurted out, barely recognizing the breathy sound of my own voice.

He nodded, stood up, and walked over to the examination bed, pulling the privacy curtain back.

My heart dropped. I knew what was coming next.

“Please, Mrs. Morales. It’s time for your checkup,” he said firmly.

A dangerous heat flushed straight down to my stomach, and panic seized me—I was terrified my underwear was already damp. It was humiliating.

I forced myself onto my feet, my body shaking as I walked past him and sat on the edge of the bed. Usually, I would be handed a disposable gown first, but he just stood there watching me expectantly. I swallowed hard, gathered every ounce of courage I had left, and looked up at him.

“I... I usually change into a gown first,” I stammered.

“I need to examine the breast first to see if the pain has actually subsided,” he replied, completely unfazed.

My heart slammed violently against my ribs. My grip tightened on the edge of the mattress. It felt like I was the only one making this awkward—he didn't seem affected by me at all. He wasn't acting possessive like he had last night.

Maybe I was being childish. I was twenty years old, not a little girl.

Swallowing hard, I slowly began unbuttoning my blouse and slipped it off. The cool air brushed against my bare skin, raising goosebumps along my arms.

Adrian stood quietly, waiting. I bit my lower lip, my trembling fingers reaching behind my back to unhook my bra. I slipped the straps down, exposing my breasts—my nipples already shamefully hardened in the chill of the room.

Adrian reached for a pair of latex gloves, snapped them onto his hands, and sat on the stool in front of me. His scent washed over me, making my throat go dry.

I searched his face for any sign of restraint, but his expression was as calm and unreadable as ever.

The moment his gloved hand cupped my left breast, my body jerked. A soft gasp escaped my lips, my breathing instantly hitching.

“Are you feeling pain here?” Adrian asked innocently.

I shook my head, biting down hard on my lip and shutting my eyes tight. My nails dug into the bedsheets as I fought to stay still under his touch. Heat pooled heavily between my thighs. I instinctively wanted to press my knees together, but I knew that would make my arousal painfully obvious.

Adrian continued his examination, asking if I felt any tenderness, and all I could do was shake my head. I wasn't in pain—I was shamelessly, desperately needy.

Suddenly, he pulled his hands back and stood up.

“That’s good. I’ll write a prescription for you, Mrs. Morales,” he said calmly.

I swallowed hard and nodded, sitting there fully exposed, still feeling the phantom warmth of his fingers on my skin.

“Change into this and let me know when you’re finished,” he added, handing me a disposable gown.

I took it with trembling hands. Once he stepped behind the curtain, I quickly unbuttoned my pants and slipped them off. Just as I feared, my underwear was embarrassingly wet.

“I’m done,” I called out softly.

I heard his chair move and the heavy sound of his footsteps approaching. Each step made my heart beat faster.

Within a minute, the pelvic examination began. Adrian gently draped the paper sheet over my legs, and I parted them for him.

With the speculum light adjusted, he began his work. But as his fingers brushed near my clitoris, my hips jerked uncontrollably. My pulse raced, and I bit my lip until I nearly drew blood.

“When was the last time you had sexual intercourse?” he asked suddenly, his voice even.

My inner walls clenched, and my entire body froze. *I really have to answer that?*

“T... ten days ago,” I whispered.

He didn't comment, simply continuing the examination.

“You’re currently in your fertile window,” he said casually as he finished up and stood up. “Based on the ultrasound, it’s advisable that you have sexual intercourse with your husband soon. You could easily get pregnant.”

His words hit me like a physical blow, shattering something in my chest.

He was advising me to have sex with his brother. That meant he didn't care about me at all.

Am I going insane? He was just being my doctor—he was right. So why did his words hurt so much?

I sat up, pulled off the gown, and saw the dampness lingering on my thighs. I shut my eyes in frustration, pulled out a wet wipe to clean myself, and quickly dressed back in my own clothes.

When I stepped out from behind the curtain, Adrian was already back at his desk, typing on his computer. He looked effortlessly handsome, even while focused on his work. Before I could stop myself, a small, sad smile touched my lips.

He suddenly looked up, meeting my eyes. My breath hitched, and my smile vanished instantly.

“Please have a seat, Mrs. Morales,” he said softly, gesturing to the chair. “We need to talk.”

My body froze.

Talk? About what?