Chapter 3

Mabel

I sat on the edge of the examination table, the thin paper crinkling beneath me, my hands clasped tightly in my lap to hide their slight tremble. The room was cooler than I'd expected, the air carrying that sharp, clinical scent that always made me feel a little too exposed.

Dr. Adrian Cole my last name, what were the odds?—moved with a quiet confidence, his white coat brushing softly against his frame as he prepared for the checkup. His hazel eyes met mine briefly, warm and reassuring, but it did little to ease the knot of anxiety twisting in my stomach.

"Alright, Mabel," he said, his voice smooth and steady, like a calm anchor in my storm of nerves. "We'll start with some basic questions, then a quick physical exam if you're comfortable. Remember, you can stop at any time."

I nodded, swallowing hard. Ethan's cruel words still echoed in my head—"Mother Virgin," he'd called me, like I was some broken relic. Coming here felt like admitting defeat, like confirming I was flawed in ways I couldn't fix. But Lydia had insisted, and after last night's wreckage, what choice did I have? I needed answers, even if they terrified me.

He began with the questions, gentle probes into my history, my relationship with Ethan, the intimacy issues that had plagued us. My cheeks flushed as I stumbled through the details, my voice barely above a whisper. It was humiliating, laying it all bare to this stranger, no matter how kind his gaze. But there was something about him—his attentive nod, the way he leaned in slightly, genuinely listening—that made the vulnerability a little less sharp.

When it came time for the physical exam, my heart raced. He explained every step, his tone professional yet soothing, but as he donned the gloves and began the gentle palpations, something shifted inside me.

His hands were careful, precise, moving with a rhythm that was meant to be clinical, but to my body, starved of real connection for so long, it felt... different. A warmth spread through me, unexpected and electric, starting low in my belly and radiating outward. My breath hitched, and I felt a flush creep up my neck, my skin tingling under his touch.

It wasn't just arousal—it was a mix of confusion, shame, and a desperate longing I'd buried deep. Why now? Why with him? Tears pricked at my eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming rush of emotions I'd thought were dormant forever.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to stay composed, but my body betrayed me with a soft gasp. He paused immediately, his hand withdrawing. "Mabel? Are you alright? We can stop."

I opened my eyes, meeting his concerned gaze, and felt a wave of embarrassment crash over me. "I'm... I'm fine," I managed, my voice shaky. "It's just... overwhelming."

He nodded understandingly, removing his gloves with a soft snap and stepping back to give me space. The exam wrapped up quickly after that, but the lingering sensation haunted me, a spark I hadn't felt in months—maybe ever.

Back in his office, I dressed hurriedly, my mind a whirlwind. When I sat across from him at his desk, he leaned forward, his expression soft and empathetic. "Mabel, physically, everything checks out. There's no underlying medical issue here."

Relief flooded me, but it was tinged with confusion. "Then... why? Why can't I... respond? With Ethan, it was like I was numb."

He smiled gently, his eyes holding mine with a warmth that made my chest ache. "It's more common than you think, especially in relationships where the emotional connection has frayed. Many women—girls like you—experience this. It's not about being 'broken.' Sometimes, it's stress, insecurity, or just not feeling truly seen. You've been through a lot lately, haven't you?"

His words hit like a balm on a fresh wound, soothing yet stinging with truth. Tears welled up again, hot and unbidden, spilling over before I could stop them. "He cheated on me," I whispered, the admission breaking free like a dam bursting. "Called me a 'Mother Virgin.' Said I was frigid. I feel so... lost."

Dr. Cole reached across the desk, not touching, but his presence felt like a comforting embrace. "I'm sorry you went through that. But listen to me—you're not frigid. You're human. And what you're feeling is valid. It's okay to need time, to explore what arousal means for you without pressure."

His kindness unraveled me further, a mix of gratitude and vulnerability swelling in my throat. For the first time in ages, I felt heard, not judged. Not pitied, but understood. It was intoxicating, this simple act of compassion, stirring emotions I'd locked away—hope, maybe even a flicker of self-worth.

He pulled a flyer from his drawer, sliding it toward me. "I run a class—a support group, really—for women dealing with similar issues. It's about intimacy, self-discovery, in a safe space. No judgments, just tools to reconnect with yourself."

I stared at the colorful paper, my fingers tracing the edges as doubt and curiosity warred inside me. "A class? I don't know... I'm not sure I'm ready."

"Come for a free trial session," he invited, his voice encouraging, eyes sparkling with genuine enthusiasm. "No commitment. Just see if it resonates. You might be surprised."

My heart pounded, a blend of fear and excitement bubbling up. Part of me wanted to run, to hide from this new vulnerability, but another part—the one that had felt that unexpected spark during the exam—whispered to take the leap.

After I fold the flyer into my purse, I met his gaze, feeling a strange pull, like the beginning of something I couldn't yet name. "Okay," I said softly, my voice steadier now. "I'll think about it."

I said and took a deep breathe walking out of the clinic.The cool air hit my face, but inside, a warmth lingered—not just from the arousal, but from the emotional thaw he'd started. For the first time since Ethan's betrayal, I didn't feel quite so alone.