All Chapters of MY GYNECOLOGIST : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Scarlet ♠️I heard them before I saw them.Ruth’s voice carried through the walls of my own home like she owned every brick of it, sharp, deliberate, loud enough that there was absolutely no question about whether I was supposed to hear. This was not a private conversation. This was a performance staged specifically for my ears, and Ruth Benson had always been an excellent performer.“That’s enough, Noah. Eight years. Eight years and that woman still has not given you a child.”I sat at the dining table with my hands folded in my lap and my back straight and my face arranged into something that could pass for calm. The table was set. Candles lit. Food goes cold. I had cooked tonight deliberately, carefully, because Ruth was coming and I had learned in eight years of marriage that a well-set table gave her fewer things to criticize.I should have known she would find something anyway.I heard Noah say something low that I couldn’t make out, and then Ruth’s voice again, louder this t

SCARLET ♠️Ten years.I sat across from him and thought, ten years and I felt every single one of them collapse like they had never existed.He hadn’t changed. That was the thing that undid me first, before anything else, the simple, unfair fact that Ray Lionel had not changed. He was still tall, still broad across the shoulders, still carrying himself with that particular stillness that had always made me feel like the rest of the world was moving too fast. His hair was darker than I remembered or maybe the office light was different. His jaw was the same. His hands were the same. Everything about him was the same and I had spent 10 years telling myself I was over it and apparently I had been lying to myself for 10 years.He was looking at me the way he used to look at me when he was trying to figure out what I was thinking before I said it.I dropped my eyes to my lap and started rubbing my thumbs together.“Scarlet.”His voice. Lord, his voice!! still that same low, unhurried reg

SCARLET ♠️I have kissed my husband four thousand times.I know this because I am the kind of woman who remembers things like that, the first time, nervous and laughing outside a restaurant on our second date. The wedding, which was perfect in the way that photographed moments are perfect, every feeling slightly performed for the camera. The anniversary kisses, the goodbye kisses, the automatic press of lips to cheek that marriage reduces passion to eventually, quietly, without either person noticing the exact moment it changed.Four thousand times. And not one of them felt like that.I was still sitting in Ray’s consultation chair, both hands pressed flat against my thighs, trying to locate my composure. Ray was back behind his desk, I didn’t see him move there, I just looked up and he was behind it, the desk between us like a decision we had both made simultaneously without discussing it. He was looking at the window. I was looking at the floor. The room was completely silent exce

Scarlet ♠️He texted me on a Thursday.I had spent Wednesday not replying to his message from Tuesday night, which I had decided on Wednesday morning was the correct and adult decision. I had also spent the whole night thinking whether to not delete the message, which I had decided on Wednesday afternoon was simply an oversight and not any kind of decision at all. By Wednesday evening the message had been read eleven times, which I was good at keeping record counting, and I had told Clara I was fine three times in one phone call, which she had noted with the specific silence of a woman filing information for later use.Thursday morning his message came again while I was making coffee.“Dinner tonight. I want to talk properly. Somewhere we can actually speak.”I read it standing at the kitchen counter in Noah’s house with Noah’s coffee machine making Noah’s particular brand of expensive Italian blend and I thought, this is the moment. This is where a sensible woman says no.I typed b

Scarlet ♠️I sent Ray two words in the morning and then put my phone face down on the nightstand and lay in the dark and waited to feel something.What I felt was nothing. Not the numb nothing of shock, the deliberate nothing of a woman who has received too much information in too short a time and has made the executive decision to process none of it until morning. The envelope was back in the drawer. The photograph was back on top of it. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be and I was exactly where I was supposed to be and if I lay very still and breathed very carefully the next few hours would pass and morning would come and I would figure out what to do with what I knew.That was the plan.The plan lasted approximately four minutes.Because the thing about reading a document that rearranges eight years of your life is that you cannot unread it. The words had entered me and they were not leaving, Severe Oligospermia, Mr. Noah Benson, dated four years prior, sitting in