Happy Anniversary

“What is that supposed to mean? Are you trying to argue with me too?!” Margot shrieked, springing up from her plush velvet seat. Her face flushed a mottled, furious red as she glared daggers at the elderly housekeeper.

Tessa jumped to her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs. She could not let Mrs. Higgins take the brunt of Margot’s wrath. “Please, do not get mad,” Tessa pleaded softly, keeping her gaze lowered. “I will discuss this with Desmond and go get it done.”

Without hesitating another second, Tessa turned and reached for the silver tray in Mrs. Higgins’s trembling hands. She picked up the porcelain bowl filled with the foul, dark fertility medicine. The acrid scent burned her nostrils, but she lifted the rim to her lips and downed the bitter liquid in one continuous gulp. The sludgy concoction coated her throat, making her stomach churn, yet she did not utter a single complaint.

Seeing Tessa’s submissive obedience, the raging older woman took a deep breath, her rigid posture relaxing just a fraction. “Do not just drink medicine alone,” Margot snapped, adjusting her silk shawl. “If your body is not strong enough, you will not even be able to protect your baby. I have arranged for an acupuncture session. I will send the address over to you. Have Mrs. Higgins accompany you.”

“Alright,” Tessa murmured. She did not dare talk back.

After Margot swept out of the grand living room, the heavy tension in the air finally dissipated. Mrs. Higgins let out a long sigh, reaching into her apron pocket. She unwrapped a small piece of fruit candy and pressed it into Tessa’s palm.

“Madam, you should really tell Mr. Desmond about your situation,” the housekeeper whispered, her eyes full of sorrow.

Tessa popped the sweet candy into her mouth, trying to chase away the lingering bitterness. “She is only doing this for our own good. She does not have any bad intentions. She only wants us to have a baby soon.”

Mrs. Higgins frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. “Then, the session in the afternoon?”

“Let us go. If we do not, she is going to get cranky again. It is not good for her to be so irate all the time.”

An hour later, Tessa found herself lying on a stark, unforgiving medical bed inside an exclusive private clinic. The harsh fluorescent lights beamed down on her fragile frame. When the long, specialized silver needle pierced deeply into her pale flesh, a sharp gasp escaped her lips. Her body shook with intense, excruciating pain.

The physician beside her methodically adjusted the depth of the penetration. His expression remained stoic; he had treated countless women in her exact position. “Be patient,” he said in a cool, detached tone. “A lot of women go through the same thing. Everything will be fine once you have a child and your body is healed.”

“Okay,” Tessa whispered. She clamped her jaw shut, gritting her teeth so hard they ached. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and rolled down her temples. She squeezed her eyes shut, desperate to block out the sterile room.

She fought to convince herself that this physical torment was not just to appease the tyrannical Carlisles. She had to cure her infertility for her own sake. Once the inevitable divorce with Desmond finalized, she might marry someone else in the distant future. She wanted to hold a child of her own someday. This pain was for her own future.

Standing by the edge of the bed, Mrs. Higgins watched with deep concern, gently wiping the damp sweat from Tessa’s brow with a soft towel. “If you do not focus on it, the sting will not hurt so much. Think about what you want to eat tonight, Madam. I will make all your favorites.”

Tessa forced a weak, strained smile, grasping at the distraction. “I want braised pork loin. And fried chicken in sweet and sour sauce.”

“Sure, I will make them all for you.”

Despite the comforting words, a hot tear slipped from the corner of Tessa’s eye. The agonizing ache radiating through her abdomen was almost unbearable. She had heard rumors that artificial insemination involved even larger needles and worse agony. Yet, she was not afraid of the physical toll. If Desmond was willing to have a child with her, she would brave any torture.

A bitter, self-deprecating smile touched her lips. There were no more ‘ifs’ left in their shattered marriage. He was going to leave her regardless of what she endured.

By the time the grueling session ended, Tessa felt drained, her muscles sore and heavy. She kept one hand pressed protectively over her aching belly as Mrs. Higgins helped her out the front doors of the clinic.

“Let me call Mr. Carlisle to come pick you up,” the housekeeper offered, pulling out her phone.

“No need,” Tessa said quickly, shaking her head. “He is busy at the corporate office. It is best not to disturb his work.”

“Are you still going to the hospital to accompany your mother then, Madam?”

Tessa stood a little taller, trying to gather her remaining strength. “Of course. When I visited her this morning, I promised I would see her again in the afternoon.”

“Then let me send you over.” Mrs. Higgins knew better than to pry, having just learned about Vera’s terminal cancer diagnosis that very morning.

“No need. The hospital where my mom is staying is just down the street. It will only take a few minutes to walk. You should head back to the mansion first, Mrs. Higgins.”

Sensing that the exhausted young woman needed some quiet solitude, the housekeeper gave a respectful nod and departed.

Tessa walked slowly under the overcast sky. Today marked her third wedding anniversary with Desmond. The date used to bring her immense joy, filling her harsh reality with warmth and hope. But today, the silence from his end was deafening. He had seemingly forgotten the milestone, leaving her quiet, foolish expectations shredded into tiny, irreparable pieces on the clinic floor.

When she finally arrived at Crestview Hospital, she could not bring herself to walk directly into the towering main building. Her shattered emotions needed mending before she faced her mother’s perceptive eyes. Seeking a momentary escape, she wandered into the peaceful hospital park and collapsed onto a secluded wooden bench, hidden away in a quiet corner behind a cluster of dense trees.

Her moment of rest was short-lived.

“Tessa!”

The sharp, familiar voice cut through the tranquil air. Tessa frowned, her chest tightening. She did not want to see her. She did not want to speak to her.

“Why are you trying to run away?” Sloane sneered, stepping out from behind the tree line with a malicious, victorious smirk. She marched forward, cornering Tessa against the bench. “Is it because you are too ashamed to show your face? It is good that you know what you did was wrong. Now, give Desmond back to me, and I will be graceful enough to give you some extra money when he divorces you.”

Sloane’s voice dripped with an insulting, extreme arrogance.

Refusing to cower, Tessa stood up, her back straight and her head held high. A cold fire ignited in her weary eyes. “This marriage is between him and me. How dare you point your finger at us? It is natural that he spends his money on me since we are legally married.”

The mocking, fake smile vanished from Sloane’s elegant face, replaced by raw fury. “I knew it! You never wanted the divorce in the first place!”

Tessa tilted her chin up, refused to let this woman belittle her. “Did he tell you that he will not divorce me temporarily?”

“You do not have the right to do that!” Sloane shrieked. Her eyes flashed with sudden rage. She stepped forward rapidly, raising her hand high to deliver a stinging slap across Tessa’s face.

Anticipating the strike, Tessa moved with lightning speed. She shot her arm up and forcefully caught Sloane’s descending wrist mid-air. Her grip was like a vice, halting the assault in its tracks.

“Your hand is for playing the piano, not for hitting others,” Tessa sneered back, shoving the woman’s arm away.

Instantly recognizing that her physical attack had been thwarted, a cunning gleam flashed in Sloane’s eyes. She bent over at the waist, clutching her wrist in feigned, exaggerated agony. “Ah!” she wailed loudly, her voice echoing through the park. “Why did you do that to me, Tessa? I already lost the ability to play the piano now that my hand is ruined. Is that not bad enough for me?”

Right on cue, urgent, heavy footsteps crunched against the gravel path.

Desmond rushed past Tessa like a sudden gust of wind. He forcefully shoved his shoulder past hers, leaving her stumbling slightly, and frantically gathered the wailing Sloane into his protective embrace.

Tessa blinked, her breath hitching. She watched him cradle Sloane, his handsome face etched with deep, frantic concern. All he could see was the woman in his arms.

“How is your hand?” he asked, his tone gentle and laced with panic.

“Ah... My hand... It is so painful... Tessa, she...” Sloane let her sentence trail off, putting on a masterful performance of a kindhearted victim too gracious to finish her accusation.

Desmond carefully inspected Sloane’s right hand. Then, he slowly turned his head. His furious, piercing gaze locked onto Tessa, slicing through her like a physical blade.

“Didn't you know that Sloane hurt her hand?” his voice roared, shattering the quiet sanctuary of the park. “You just hurt her yesterday, but you did this again today! What do you want?”

Tessa felt her fragile heart plummet into an endless, dark abyss. The words echoed in her ringing ears. *What do I want?*

She had foolishly believed he was buried under a mountain of paperwork at the corporate office. While she lay on a cold clinic bed, trembling in agonizing pain under silver needles for the sake of his family, where was he? He was right here. Accompanying Sloane.

“Desmond, do you remember what day it is today?” Tessa asked. Her voice cracked, betraying the hot tears forming in the corners of her eyes. The lingering, sharp pain from the clinic’s needles still coursed through her exhausted veins, making it difficult to even draw a full breath.

Today was their third wedding anniversary.

Desmond’s furious expression faltered. A flash of complicated guilt crossed his striking features. “I didn't forget. I was just a little busy.”

“You forgot,” Tessa whispered. The tears threatened to spill, but she fought them back. She offered him a devastatingly bitter smile. “Even if you did remember, you consciously chose to forget it.”

“I...” Desmond started, the tightness in his jaw revealing his inner turmoil.

Tessa refused to endure another second of this public humiliation. The physical torture and emotional betrayal fused into a cold, detached resolve. She straightened her posture, looking at the man she loved with unyielding finality.

“Desmond, if you want to marry her that much, then do not drag this on. Let us do it. We can go get it done right now.”

Desmond bristled, his frustration boiling over. He tightened his hold on Sloane’s arm. He felt he had been generous, offering her a sympathetic delay because of her mother’s terminal illness, even making Sloane cry in the process. And she dismissed his mercy so easily?

“Aren't you worried that your mother cannot take the shock?” he demanded angrily, weaponizing her dying mother's frail health against her.

“There is no need to worry about it, Mr. Carlisle,” Tessa replied, her tone icy and devoid of the warmth she used to reserve solely for him. “I will explain it to her. She knows that our marriage was a mistake in the first place. She wants me to be happy. If she knew that we are in so much pain together, she would want us to divorce soon too.”

Without waiting for his response, she turned on her heel, leaving him in the dust. Every step she took toward the hospital doors cemented her resolve. She was going to tell Vera the truth and end this farce today.

“Go get a doctor to look at your hand,” Desmond muttered hastily, tearing his eyes away from his retreating wife.

“Desmond!” Sloane called out, remaining dramatically seated on the wooden park bench, her hand outstretched desperately.

He abandoned her without a second glance.

Desmond broke into a run, his long legs eating up the distance across the lawn. He caught up to Tessa just as the automatic doors of the hospital entrance slid open. Reaching out, he grabbed her hand. His grip was tight, firm, and unyielding.

Tessa shot him a cold glare, trying to yank her arm free, but he held fast.

“If we are going to tell her, we should do this together,” he insisted, his jaw set in stubborn determination.

Chest heaving from the chase, Tessa stopped struggling. Together, they walked down the long, sterile corridors of the hospital ward, their fingers interlocked in a mockery of unity. They pushed open the door side-by-side, stepping into the private room.

Sitting up in her bed, Vera turned from the sunlight streaming through the window. Her pale, drawn face lit up instantly. Unaware of the impending devastation, she offered them a bright, beautifully unsuspecting smile.

“Oh, you two are here together.”