Loved by the Mafia

Keirah’s POV

Patience is not one of my biggest attributes. I need a superpower to read my doctor's mind on all the results of the medical examination I am constantly taking.

Any part of my body diverging from its normal working routine is beyond a red flag for me, hence why I am always visiting my doctor so often.

I had a few courses in college and also did a very innovative project in medicine to help me with my biomedical engineering. Nevertheless, I am obsessed with being healthy.

While other people get a headache and feel like it is normal. It will get better if they rest and drink enough water.

My mind thinks I have a brain tumor or a terminal illness. I am a terrified human being for my health.

I will do anything to just make sure I stay healthy forever.

In my usual extreme reactions, a simple headache makes me set an appointment with my doctor, doctor Fabian for a checkup.

The downside with my doctor is he can never go straight and say hey it's just a headache, take these medications or go have enough rest.

He will walk into the room with the result in his hands, showing no emotions on his face.

My heartbeat, which is already on the override, wants to get out of my chest and then counsel me for twenty minutes before telling me it’s a simple headache.

Today is one of those days I am sitting in Doctor Fabian’s office. Holding my breath and pretending to be staring at the ultrasound monitor.

He has been explaining to me the female reproductive system as if I am a final-year medical school student, instead of an impatient patient.

I wish to be totally rude for once and interrupt him. Or ask him to stop with the whole pap talk.

“Your body has no problem, Keirah. A woman's fertility declines in her late twenties and early thirties.

“You are just thirty-two, and you still have three years to thirty-five, when your chances of conceiving naturally will decrease significantly.

“However, every woman's fertility journey is different. And can vary based on factors such as overall health and genetic predispositions.

“Are you thinking of artificial insemination?”

What? No… No… we are not going in that direction. The ‘Are you thinking of artificial insemination?’ Is a point break for me.

Okay.

Time to go.

Stand up and leave.

We are no longer a doctor and patients when the questions take this turn.

When it’s about the medical stuff. I have reached the highest stage of tolerance.

Because I know he will have to stop at some point. And I always seat my ass down to wait for the results.

It's far better to know what is wrong with me than to go home and continue on my journey of the weirdest imaginations I have in what is wrong with me.

I have been in situations when he asks me questions about delicate and sensitive matters. And previously I always answered him honestly.

Then the next thing I knew, everyone in our town knew exactly what we discussed privately.

My diagnosis. Everything supposed to be kept confidential is never around here.

“Why would I do artificial insemination?! I already found the right person, my soulmate. We have decided….

“We will have a baby the traditional way. That’s why I am here. Is that all Doctor Fabian?

There is nothing wrong with me, right? Thank you, doctor. I am sorry.

“I need to leave for my other appointments.”

I stand up, hiding my face. Embarrassed, and I feel lost in the lies I have been keeping up for the last five years.

The lie that I am in a relationship and failing to admit I am single.

This town has turned me into a constant liar. It never is easy around here.

And trying to pretend I am not single is too tiring.

The act I am constantly putting up in front of everyone. This mask is suffocating me.

“They have discharged him already? I would love to meet him.”

He switches off the ultrasound monitor and turns his chair to stand up and walk up to me.

I can do this.

This is it.

This is the beginning of a part of my huge plan.

If I fail here and now, that would be a bad start. I swear by the Gods I have never thought I will ever try doing something like this.

Even in my weirdest dreams, the thought never crossed me.

But I am now standing in a mess. A mess I call a plan that, in a real sense, isn’t.

I came here for the fertility test, which is the pre-step in my plan.

If anything goes wrong in one step, I will get caught and it’s the end of my life story as I know it.

They will find me guilty of sperm theft and will go to jail for ten years. It might backfire into a tragedy.

Something I know well enough, but I am fed up with not risking anything to gain meaning for my boring life.

This risk I am taking is too high than normal, but I trust in my guts and believe I can pull it through safely.

I have spent more time on this than I have ever tried on anything.

I am sure I came up with a perfect plan and I will be safe if all goes as planned.

Today is the day of initiating the plan.

The plan is complicated. That’s why it took me two long years of planning, hacking, and saving a lot of money to pay for everything I need.

Today is D-day.

The hashtag for the operation is sperm jacking. I am getting pregnant using a man’s semen without his knowledge or consent.

I not only want to get a man who can give me sperm, but I must also trick him into having sexual intercourse with me willingly.

I plan to take all the time I need to get myself pregnant and bound the man in my lies for as long as I need to get myself pregnant, without the man’s awareness of the big picture.

The heavy side of this is, I am not willing to share this with anyone.

I do not trust our town's sperm banks or hospitals with this.

Which would have been a better path, easy with no risk than I am putting myself through.

I will do everything on my own, not a single soul aware from the start to the end.

No loopholes.

No one will know or get a glimpse of what is truly going on.