The Perfect Couple

The harsh, fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor buzzed overhead, casting a stark glare across the polished linoleum floor. Tessa kept her gaze fixed straight ahead as they walked. The sterile scent of antiseptic burned her nose, but it did nothing to clear the suffocating fog settling over her mind. She knew her story held no happy ending. If she begged him now, she would only destroy whatever fragile shreds of pride she still had left.

Despite handing her the death sentence of their marriage just hours ago, Desmond seamlessly slipped back into the role of the fiercely devoted husband. He guided her toward the reception desk, his hand resting lightly against the small of her back. He handled her medical registration, filled out the necessary paperwork with swift strokes of his pen, and paid the fees. He did it all with the practiced ease of a man who cared deeply. It was a paradox that made Tessa want to scream.

He ushered her into the quiet consultation room. The gastroenterologist looked up from his clipboard as they entered.

"Doctor, my wife is having a stomachache," Desmond said, his voice rumbling with genuine concern. "Can you please see if anything is wrong?"

The doctor observed Desmond for a brief second before gesturing toward the door. "Please wait outside, sir. I need to examine her."

Before stepping back, Desmond reached out. His fingers brushed against Tessa’s shoulder in a reassuring pat. "Don't worry," he murmured softly. "I'll be right outside."

"Sure," Tessa whispered. She lowered her head instantly. The moment the heavy wooden door clicked shut behind him, a hot tear slipped free. She quickly wiped it away with the back of her trembling hand, refusing to let it fall.

"Lift up your shirt, please," the doctor instructed, pulling a cold stethoscope from around his neck.

Tessa complied. Her stomach was indeed slightly puffed and aching with a dull throb. Since Desmond had already paid for the expensive consultation, she figured she might as well endure the examination. The doctor pressed the chilling metal against her skin, moving it methodically across her abdomen.

After a minute, the doctor pulled back. He reached for her wrist, pressing two fingers against her pulse point. He stood there, analyzing the steady rhythm for a long moment.

"I don't hear any glaring issues with your digestive tract, so your stomach should be fine," he concluded, dropping his hand.

"I see," Tessa replied, her voice flat and deadened. A hollow ache bloomed in her chest. A stark realization hit her: after today, Desmond would never accompany her to a hospital again. The next time she felt sick, she would be sitting in a waiting room all by herself.

The doctor picked up his pen. "When was your last menstruation?"

"What?" Tessa blinked, snapping her head up to look at him. "Why are you asking about that?"

A gentle, encouraging smile touched the doctor's lips. "Despite being in the gastroenterology department, I am quite skilled in alternative medicine, if I do say so myself."

"Huh?"

"From the looks of your pulse and your symptoms, you might be pregnant."

The words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. Tessa’s reaction was instantaneous. The sheer absurdity of the statement dragged a bitter, hollow smile onto her face. It was a smile devoid of any warmth or hope.

"That's impossible," she stated flatly, her voice turning to ash. "I am infertile. Despite taking endless rounds of medication for two years, there haven't been any results."

The doctor frowned, leaning forward in his chair. "Infertile? Is it because of your general physiology or the size of your womb? I should probably give you a much closer examination."

"Thank you, doctor," Tessa interrupted coldly, pulling her shirt down. "But there is no need for that."

"Your husband looks like he loves you a lot," the doctor pressed, his tone sympathetic and urging. "Don't give up hope just yet. Having a child can do wonders to improve a relationship, and your in-laws might not disrespect you as much once you give them an heir."

Tessa shook her head, staring at the blank wall behind the doctor. Only she knew the humiliating, pathetic reality of her situation. If Desmond truly loved her, would he have demanded a divorce this morning?

"Should I write a note for a follow-up examination in the obstetrics department?" the doctor asked, pen hovering over the prescription pad.

"It's okay, doctor," Tessa said, her words slicing through the quiet room like a blade. "We are getting a divorce anyway."

The doctor paused, letting out a heavy sigh. "Well, every family has their own trials to pass. It is never easy for two people to build a life together. If a divorce isn't absolutely necessary, you shouldn't rush into it. Medical technology is getting very advanced these days. Even if traditional medicine isn't working, you can always try artificial fertilization."

The phrase shattered her carefully maintained composure. Artificial fertilization. The mere suggestion struck her chest with blunt force. Her breath hitched. She dug her fingernails into her palms, desperately trying to hold her tears back.

Her mind raced back to the countless times she had broached the subject with Desmond. She had pleaded with him, offering different clinics and different methods. Every single time, Desmond had staunchly refused. He always shut the conversation down with a firm, unyielding excuse: he simply did not like children.

Sitting on the crinkling paper of the examination bed, the devastating truth finally dawned on her. The realization was humiliating. His refusal never had anything to do with disliking children. He had simply never intended to spend the rest of his life with her. Perhaps he had been planning this divorce since the very beginning. Why would he ever agree to have a child with a woman he planned to discard?

Tessa slid off the examination bed, her legs feeling like lead. She walked out of the consultation room, pushing the heavy door open.

"What did the doctor say?"

Desmond stepped into her path immediately, his brows drawn together in a picture of feigned, gentle worry.

"It's nothing," Tessa muttered, avoiding his gaze. "I'll get better after getting some rest."

Desmond reached out, his fingers affectionately pinching her cheek just as he always did when he scolded her. "I told you not to eat so much ice cream," he chastised softly. "You are always the one in pain when you get sick."

For a fleeting second, the familiar gesture made her want to lean into his palm. Tessa tried her hardest to force a reassuring smile onto her face. But the fragile, comforting illusion vanished in a heartbeat. Her eyes drifted past Desmond’s broad shoulder, landing on an elegant, perfectly poised figure standing just a few feet away.

It hit Tessa like a brutal shock of ice-cold water. Her breath froze in her lungs. She stared icily at the man standing in front of her.

Sensing the drastic shift in her demeanor, Desmond turned his head, following her line of sight. He looked back at Tessa, offering a casual explanation. "Sloane was nearby."

"Long time no see, Tessa."

Sloane Mercer stepped forward, her every movement dripping with sickening grace. She wore a tailored designer trench coat, her hair styled in effortless, glossy waves. She walked right up to Desmond’s side, closing the distance between them with practiced ease.

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, they looked impeccable. A handsome, wealthy man and a stunning, sophisticated woman. They were a flawless match, just like they had been three years ago. Looking at the picture-perfect couple, Tessa felt her stomach churn. The vast disparity made her feel like a pathetic, ugly clown, unable to even raise her heavy head in their radiant presence.

"I heard from Desmond that you were not feeling well, so I came over to check up on you," Sloane continued, flashing a brilliant, sugary smile. She reached out, casually looping her manicured hand through Desmond’s arm. "How was the examination? Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine." Tessa forced the words past the tight knot in her throat. "When did you come back?"

"This morning," Sloane answered brightly. "Desmond picked me up from the airport."

This morning. The revelation echoed in Tessa’s mind, deafening and cruel. She came back this morning. And on that exact same morning, Desmond suddenly decided he could not wait another single day to ask his wife for a divorce.

Desmond shifted his weight, attempting to pull his arm away from Sloane’s grasp, but she held on tight. She did not let go. Instead, Sloane tilted her head, adopting a patronizing tone of sweet concern.

"Tessa, where will you go after the divorce?" Sloane asked, her voice carrying down the quiet hallway. "You still like to paint, right? I have lots of friends in the city, and one of them operates an art gallery. Do you want me to introduce you to him for a job?"

Beneath the flawless veneer of sisterly care, the insult was blatant. Sloane was talking down to her, offering a menial job to ensure Tessa would not have to pathetically rely on Desmond's money after the split.

"Sloane, you should head back to the hotel," Desmond interjected. The tension radiating from Tessa was palpable, and he clearly felt the awkwardness thick in the air. "I will send Tessa home."

"Oh, we are all friends here. There is nothing to be worried about," Sloane dismissed his suggestion with a wave of her free hand. "Let's just send Tessa home together."

"Sloane..." Desmond warned softly.

"Desmond, I left the country for three years, and so many things have changed here," Sloane said, her voice dropping into a soft, vulnerable pitch. She pressed her body closer against him. "I don't want to be alone."

"What are you talking about? Your parents are still waiting for you at home."

Sloane clung tighter to his arm, leaning her weight against his side. "I want you to send me home," she coaxed, her voice dripping with unapologetic, blatant flirting right in front of his actual wife. "I don't want to go home alone. Come on... Desmond."

Watching them interact with such casual intimacy felt like a jagged knife slowly twisting deep in Tessa's chest. They were still legally married. The ink on the divorce papers did not even exist yet, and her husband was already entertaining another woman's demands right in front of her.

Desmond frowned slightly at the public display. He glanced around the hallway, his jaw tightening. But ultimately, he capitulated to Sloane's demands. He turned his helpless gaze toward Tessa.

"Maybe we can send Sloane home first, Tessa?" he suggested.

"You can go," Tessa replied flatly, her nails digging deeper into her palms. "I'm not feeling well, so I'm not going."

She had no desire to share a cramped car with them. She also had no desire to face her aunt and uncle. For the past three years, her extended family had treated her like a shameless opportunist who stole Desmond while Sloane was overseas building her career. The marriage had been arranged by the elders when Desmond’s grandfather fell critically ill. Sloane had fled the country to avoid the commitment, leaving Tessa to take the fall and marry a man who did not love her. Yet, somehow, Tessa was always the villain in their eyes.

"Why don't you let your personal assistant, Gideon, send her back?" Sloane pressed, her eyes shining with triumph. "I've been away for so long, and I have so much to talk to you about. You don't know how much I've suffered out there for the past three years."

Desmond looked at Tessa, his expression a mix of guilt and resignation. "Just stay here for a bit," he told her casually, discarding her in an instant. "I'll have Gideon come over and pick you up."

"Sure." Tessa bit the inside of her cheek to hide her trembling lip and looked away.

When they went out together in the past, he never left her alone. He always made sure she was safe. But now, with Sloane back in the picture, Tessa was clearly no longer his priority.

"Ah! I left my handbag in the reception hall downstairs!" Sloane suddenly gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in exaggerated anxiety. "I have some very important things inside! Can you get it for me, Desmond?"

"Sure, I'll go grab it," Desmond agreed without hesitation. He turned on his heel and strode toward the elevators, leaving the two women alone.

Tessa wanted to walk away. The moment Desmond’s broad back disappeared around the corner, she knew the forgotten handbag was a convenient lie. Sloane had intentionally sent him away.

"Let's talk, Tessa."

Sloane’s graceful, sweet facade dropped the second they were alone. She stepped aggressively into Tessa’s personal space. Her hand shot out, seizing Tessa's arm in a vicious grip. There was no warmth in her touch; her sharp fingernails dug through the fabric of Tessa’s sleeve, clearly meant to inflict physical pain.

"Don't touch me," Tessa warned, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

"Wow. You're getting quite feisty," Sloane sneered. Her beautiful face twisted into a nasty, arrogant scowl, revealing her true, vicious nature. "You must feel so great getting addressed as Mrs. Carlisle for the past three years. However, you have to return whatever you've stolen in the end, don't you think so?"

Refusing to be bullied by the woman who had abandoned this very marriage three years ago, Tessa violently wrenched her arm free. The sudden, fierce movement broke Sloane’s painful hold. Tessa stood her ground, her spine stiff, staring icily back into her cousin's malicious face.

"Seems like your tongue is getting sharper and sharper," Tessa retorted coldly.