CHAPTER 6 – TEN DAYS OF MADNESS

SIENNA’S POV

The first thing I felt when I woke up was cold. Not the shivery kind that makes you reach for a blanket, but the sterile, too-clean cold that clung to hospital walls and whispered: What they just did? It’s not going to work.

My eyelids fluttered open, heavy as bricks. The harsh fluorescent light stabbed my eyes like it had been waiting all night for this moment.

“Easy, Miss Monroe.”

Dr. Philip’s voice slid into my ears, calm and steady, like he wasn’t the reason my future had just been rewritten. He stood at the edge of the bed, clipboard in hand, that same professional smile plastered across his face.

I tried to sit up, but the paper gown crinkled, the IV tugged, and my pride screamed louder than my body. “So… did we do it? Or was this all just a fifty-thousand-dollar nap?”

"Well, It’s done,” Dr. Philip said gently.

The words should have comforted me. Instead, they landed like chains.

Done. Irreversible.

I pressed a shaky hand to my abdomen, tears welling again. “Please,” I whispered, though I didn’t even know who I was begging. The doctor? The moon goddess? Fate?

“Please let this work.”

Because if it didn’t… I wasn’t sure how much more breaking I could survive.

“It will. Everything went perfectly. Your body responded well. Now, it’s just a matter of waiting.”

I swallowed as he set the clipboard down and met my gaze. “When you come back in ten days, we’ll know if you’re officially expecting. Hopefully, when you walk through those doors again, you’ll be a mommy.”

Dr. Philip said it so casually, like he hadn’t just pressed the nuclear launch button on my life.

I forced a smile, nodding like this was just another Tuesday and not the single biggest gamble I’d ever taken. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” My voice cracked on the word wanted.

Because God, wasn’t that the truth?

For years I’d been clawing for scraps of love, chasing dreams I thought were mine until Nigel... and Piper... burned them down in front of me. And now here I was, lying on a cold clinic bed with stirrups still warm, praying that science and desperation would give me the only thing left worth fighting for.

A baby. My baby.

The nurse helped me sit up, her too-bright smile like a Hallmark card I wanted to set on fire. “You did great, Miss Monroe. Just take it easy for the next few days. No heavy lifting, no stress.”

I snorted. “Lady, my whole life is heavy lifting and stress.”

She giggled politely, clearly used to hormonal women snapping post-procedure. But I wasn’t hormonal yet... I was just me. Broke... betrayed, and barely holding it together with duct tape and sarcasm.

As I shuffled out of the clinic, clutching the papers and prescriptions they gave me like some twisted goodie bag, I felt it. That strange mix of terror and hope that made my chest ache.

Ten days. Ten days until I knew whether this insanity had worked.

Ten days until I either cried myself into dehydration or start Googling baby names like a lunatic.

---

The drive home was a blur of streetlights and intrusive thoughts. Every red light felt like a therapy session. What if it fails? What if I wasted fifty grand I don’t even have? What if the donor was a dud? What if my body betrays me the way everyone else did?

By the time I pulled into my crummy apartment complex, I was already spiraling.

My neighbor Mrs. Gonzalez was outside, smoking her nightly cigarette. She squinted at me like she knew my secrets. “You look pale, niña. You sick?”

I pasted on a smile. “Nah. Just tired.”

She blew out smoke and gave me a look that said she wasn’t buying it. But thankfully, she didn’t pry.

Inside, my apartment smelled faintly of burnt toast and regret. I kicked off my shoes, collapsed on the couch, and stared at the ceiling like it owed me answers.

Nigel’s voice still haunted me. Piper’s laugh still stabbed. But now… there was something louder. A whisper that said maybe, just maybe, I was finally doing something right.

Still, the silence was brutal. So I grabbed my phone, opened my notes app, and typed at the top:

“Baby Names That Don’t Suck.”

Because if I was going to spiral for ten days, I might as well make it entertaining.

---

Day one: I Googled “what not to do after insemination” and immediately fell into a black hole of horror stories. Women on forums swearing that sneezing too hard ruined their chances. Another one claiming spicy food cursed her uterus. I shut my laptop before paranoia killed me.

Day three: Piper posted a picture with Nigel on I*******m. Her caption? “Found my forever.” I threw my phone across the room so hard it bounced off the couch and smacked the wall. If this baby sticks, I swear my kid will never know that kind of betrayal.

Day five: My credit card company called. Again... bless their persistence. I let it ring out. Because what were they gonna do, repossess my uterus?

Day seven: I cried in the shower. No reason. Just cried until the water ran cold. Then I laughed, because isn’t that just the definition of insanity?

Day eight: Mrs. Gonzalez caught me talking to my stomach. I told her I was practicing affirmations. She nodded slowly, probably making a mental note to call the exorcist.

Day nine: The nerves hit like a freight train. I could barely eat. Every twinge in my body felt like a sign. Pregnant? Not pregnant? Was my uterus whispering secrets I couldn’t hear yet?

And then finally...

Day ten.