Please Don’t Say You Love Me

“My baby is surely going to look just like his dad when he grows up. With his dad’s sharp brows and bright eyes, he’ll be ridiculously handsome. And maybe he’ll even have the same little red mole at the corner of his eye.”

The woman’s voice rang out down the otherwise quiet hospital hallway, loud and almost shrill. A few people turned to look, and so did Remi Sloan. The woman was wearing a mask, but her eyes were filled with undisguised pride.

As Remi listened to the description of the baby’s future looks, someone else came to mind—her husband of five years, James Hudson. In their social circle, he was known as the son of one of the most powerful families in the city, and he, too, had a small red mole at the corner of his eye.

Just as Remi was about to step forward and ask the woman something, her name was called over the hospital intercom.

Across the desk, the doctor held her medical report with a grave expression. Remi’s hands clenched tightly together. Her chest felt tight, as if a giant hand was squeezing her heart.

After what felt like forever, the doctor finally spoke.

“Ms. Sloan, all your physical indicators are normal. As for why you haven’t been able to conceive after all these years, we’re not entirely sure. You may need to undergo further testing…”

The doctor continued speaking, but Remi could not hear a word. All she could think about was that her body was normal, and yet, for five years, she still had not gotten pregnant.

She walked out of the consultation room in a daze and sat down on a bench in the hallway, staring blankly at the report in her hands. Tears fell one after another, soaking the paper.

She and James had grown up together as childhood sweethearts. Everyone in their circle knew she was his one true love. When she was seventeen, he had called her out beneath the old sycamore tree in their neighborhood. Under the moonlight, his face flushed red as he pulled out over a hundred handwritten love letters he had secretly written over the years. Stammering, he confessed.

On the day she turned twenty—the legal marriage age—he proposed without hesitation.

“Remi,” he had said, “I’m scared that if I waited a little longer, someone else would steal you away.”

She disliked attention, and he wanted to protect her. Hence, their wedding was made up of just close friends and family. Hardly anyone outside their circle even knew they were married. However, that did not affect how much James loved her, especially after she found out she could not conceive. He had always comforted her. He even took the blame upon himself.

When his parents pressured her about having children, he stood firmly in front of her and said, “I’m the one who doesn’t want kids. If you continue to pressure her, I’ll give up my position as heir.”

She had been deeply moved and deeply guilty. Determined to get pregnant as soon as possible, she tried countless folk remedies. She became a regular at the hospital’s obstetrics and gynaecology department. Yet, five years passed, and her belly remained empty.

She walked out of the hospital and pulled out her phone, wanting to call James. Right now, she just wanted to see him and have him hold her. But then she remembered he was still at work. So she put her phone away and decided to take a cab to his company instead.

The moment she stepped inside the building, she saw a familiar figure ahead. A man who looked exactly like James was carefully supporting a pregnant woman up the stairs.

“James?” she called out softly, testing the name.

He turned instinctively. When he saw her, his body stiffened for a split second. He quickly whispered something to the woman beside him. After she left, he came down the stairs and positioned himself in front of Remi, blocking her view.

A flicker of doubt rose in her chest. Why did he look so nervous?

“Who was that?” she asked.

His expression remained calm. “Just a passerby. She’s pregnant, so I helped her up the stairs.”

James had always been someone with strict boundaries. Since childhood, he had never touched any woman except her. Even the secretaries at his company were all men. In their circle, people teased him for being “whipped”, and he did not mind it at all.

“Yes,” he would say openly, “I’m whipped. I’m allergic to every woman except Remi.”

If so, why would a man so distant toward other women go out of his way to support a pregnant stranger?

However, before she could dwell on it, he changed the subject.

“By the way, what did the doctor say about your results?”

The disappointment in her eyes flickered again. The grievance she had barely managed to suppress surged back up, and her eyes watered.

He immediately understood. Pulling her into his arms, he gently patted her back.

“Hey, it’s okay. Like I’ve said, don’t put so much pressure on yourself about the pregnancy. I’m completely fine without children. In my heart, you’re the only one who matters. Don’t cry. It hurts me to see you cry.”

He brushed away the tear at the corner of her eye with his thumb, then lowered his head and kissed her. After a long while, his warmth finally soothed her emotions. She held his hand tightly in return.

Back at the mansion, James went straight into the bathroom to shower, while Remi sat alone on the edge of the bed. She was about to tuck the medical report into the drawer when her phone suddenly chimed with a text notification. Her hand froze, and her body began to tremble uncontrollably.

After a long moment, she took a deep breath, picked up her phone, and opened the message. As expected. It was another text from James’s mother, Katie Hudson, urging her to get pregnant.

Ever since she failed to conceive, James’s mother had been messaging her every few days, asking if she had gone for another checkup and when she would finally get pregnant. It was to the point that every time her phone chimed, Remi felt a wave of anxiety and fear.

The screen eventually went dark. She closed her eyes, struggling internally for a long time. Finally, she opened them again, walked to the closet, and pulled out the dress buried at the very bottom.