The Diary That Erased His Sins

Summary

When the ninety-ninth fertility specialist delivered the definitive verdict—that the catastrophic scar tissue tearing through my reproductive system meant I would never, under any medical miracle, carry a child—my husband didn’t reach for my hand.

He didn’t offer a breath of comfort. He simply grabbed his coat, looked at me with an expression curdled into pure disgust, and walked out of the clinic, leaving me stranded in the sterile hum of the examination room.

I drove across town to the Miller Corporation tower, my chest aching so violently I could barely draw air.