2; I Was Never Barren

Serelyn’s POV

I woke up before Darian in the morning.  For several minutes, I stayed still under the cold blankets and listened to his breathing. The room was exactly as I remembered it. The same curtains. The same dark wooden wardrobe. 

The same expensive sheets I had chosen because Darian once told me they made the bedroom look more elegant.

Seven years ago, I had thought every little improvement I made to this house was an investment in our future. Now I looked around and saw receipts for everything I had given away.

I picked up my phone again, checked the bank again and looked at my damn balance. Then my mind dragged me back to the beginning. The first debt had been small.

Darian had come home late one evening, loosened his tie, and dropped into the chair across from me.

“There’s a problem with the company.”

I had immediately put my laptop aside, “How much?”

“Not much.”

It had been enough to make me hesitate. He had reached across the table and taken my hand.

“I’ll pay you back.”

I believed him. So I transferred the money. Then there was another debt. Then another. When Rhett lost money gambling, Darian asked me to help.

When Orlan’s investment collapsed, Mavelle called me crying. When Mavelle needed expensive medical treatment, I paid the hospital. And every time Darian’s company nearly went under, he came to me with the same promise.

“Just this once, Serelyn.”

There has always been a reason. There has always been a crisis. There had always been someone who needed me. My inheritance had once been enough to give me a comfortable life without worrying about money. Seven years later, most of it was gone.

I had never noticed when helping became expected. I had trained them to believe that my money would always be there. The mattress shifted beside me.

Darian opened his eyes, “You’re awake?”

I looked at him, “Yeah.”

He rubbed his face and reached for his phone. After checking the time, he frowned.

“Did you transferred the money for Rhett’s debt?”

I almost burst out laughing. He didn’t even please or try to ask politely. He simply assumed I had done it.

“No.”

His hand stopped, “What?”

“I didn’t transfer anything.”

He sat up, “Serelyn, I told you yesterday that Rhett needs to settle it today.”

“I heard you.”

“Then why didn’t you send it?”

I looked at him, “Because I said no.”

His expression hardened, “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.”

“His creditors are threatening him.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

Darian stared at me as if I had spoken another language, “You know how much trouble my family has been dealing with.”

“I do.”

“We’ve always supported you.”

The words landed strangely. I turned toward him.

“Tell me what you’ve sacrificed for me.”

He blinked, “What?”

“You said your family has always supported me. Tell me one thing you sacrificed for me.”

His mouth opened. Nothing came out. I waited. Darian looked away first.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“No. I’m asking a simple question.”

“You’re my wife.”

“And you’re my husband.”

“So we’re supposed to help each other.”

“I agree.”

“Then stop acting selfish.”

My fingers tightened around the blanket. Selfish. The same word. Seven years, and the accusation had never changed. Whenever I refused to pay for something, I was selfish. Whenever I questioned another transfer, I was selfish. Whenever I asked why Darian’s family always needed something, I was selfish. I looked at him quietly.

“I’m not paying any debt, my dead hubby.”

He pushed the blankets aside, “You’ve changed, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed? .”

“Maybe.”

He shook his head and walked into the bathroom. I remained on the bed. For once, I didn’t chase after him. My phone rang.

Mavelle…

I answered, “Hello?”

Her voice came immediately, “Serelyn, I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“I was asleep.”

“You need to speak to Darian.”

“I just did.”

She sighed, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

I said nothing. Then she lowered her voice.

“Seven years, Serelyn.”

My jaw tightened, “Seven years of what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

I stared at the wall, “You still haven’t given Darian a child.”

There it was. The wound they had pressed on for years. Mavelle continued before I could answer.

“Lysenna is different. She’s young, healthy, and understands what a family needs. Perhaps Darian deserves a woman who can actually give him a family.”

I closed my eyes. In my first life, those words had destroyed me. I had spent years visiting doctors. Taking supplements. Tracking dates. Crying quietly whenever another month passed.

I had believed there was something wrong with me. But suddenly, a memory surfaced. Darian rarely touched me during the final years of our marriage.

Not because I had refused him. He simply stopped.

After Lysenna entered his life, he found endless excuses to sleep elsewhere. Business trips. Late meetings. Exhaustion. Sometimes weeks passed without him coming near me. Yet somehow, I had carried all the blame.

“Mavelle,” I said quietly.

“Yes?”

“Did you ever actually know whether I was infertile?”

Then she scoffed, “You’ve never had a child.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I have to go.”

She ended the call. I lowered my phone. My hands were shaking. I needed an answer. Not from Darian. Not from Mavelle. From someone who had nothing to gain from lying to me.

By noon, I was sitting in a private clinic across town. I had contacted a fertility specialist using my maiden name and requested that my old medical records be reviewed. The doctor sat across from me, flipping through the files. She adjusted her glasses.

“Mrs. Vale, I don’t see evidence here that you were infertile.”

I stared at her, “What?”

She turned one page toward me.

“These tests are within normal range.”

“But I was told…”

“I can’t speak to what you were told.” She tapped the report. “But based on these records, there was no diagnosis of infertility.”

My mouth went dry, “So I wasn’t barren?”

“No.”

The word landed harder than I expected. I looked down at my hands.

“Then why didn’t I get pregnant?”

The doctor hesitated.

“Pregnancy requires regular intercourse during the fertile window. Your records show very few documented attempts.”

I swallowed. She continued gently.

“If your husband was rarely intimate with you, conception would obviously have been difficult.”

I stared at the papers. All those years. All those tears. All those nights wondering what was wrong with my body. They had let me believe I was defective. Darian had let me believe it. His mother had repeated it. And I had believed them because I loved him. When I returned home, I went straight to the bedroom.

I opened the drawer beside Darian’s side of the bed. Inside was the watch I had bought him for our fifth anniversary. It had cost more than I should have spent. I had saved for months because he once mentioned wanting it.

I picked it up. The metal was still polished. I turned it over in my palm. For years, I had thought giving things away proved how much I loved him. Now I understand something else. I didn’t want the watch. I didn’t want the marriage.

I didn’t want the life I had built around a man who had watched me blame myself for a lie. I placed the watch back in the drawer. Not because I wanted to keep it. Because I hadn’t decided yet what I wanted to do with everything else.

That evening, Darian came home unusually early. He dropped his keys on the table and loosened his collar.

“Did you eat?”

“Yes.”

He opened the refrigerator. Then, almost casually, he said, “Lysenna needs to avoid stress.”

I froze. Slowly, I turned toward him.

“Why?”

Darian’s hand stopped on the refrigerator door. For the first time that day, he looked caught off guard.

“What?”

“You said Lysenna needs to avoid stress.”

He shut the refrigerator, “I just meant she’s been under pressure.”

“Why?”

“She has some personal things going on.”

I stared at him. He avoided my eyes. I didn’t need another doctor. I didn’t need another explanation. I already knew.Lysenna was pregnant. And strangely, I wasn’t heartbroken. I was relieved.

Because now I knew exactly who my husband had chosen. And I finally knew exactly what I was going to take back.