The sterile lights in Room 312 buzzed overhead like judgmental whispers. I sat on the examination table, arms crossed, while the doctor, a silver-haired man with kind eyes and a clipboard reviewed the preliminary scans and bloodwork. Mum paced near the window, her designer heels clicking impatiently against the tile.“Everything looks perfectly normal, Mrs. Ashbourne,” the doctor said, addressing Mum more than me. He adjusted his glasses. “Alice is in excellent health. No hormonal imbalances, no underlying issues that would prevent conception. However, for a full fertility assessment on the couple, Mr. Tad Davenhall will need to come in himself for his own check-up. These things work best when both partners are evaluated.”Mum’s perfectly arched brows shot up. “You’re saying there’s nothing wrong with her?”“Nothing at all,” the doctor confirmed, smiling politely at me. “In fact, she’s quite healthy. Stress might be a factor, but medically? She’s ready if and when the time comes.”
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