My period was two months late, and my mom, in a full-blown panic, dragged me to the gynecologist. When the clinic door swung open, I nearly slid off my chair. The doctor sitting before me was the ex I’d dumped so spectacularly two months ago. He stared coldly at his keyboard. “Lie down on the exam table. Pants down to your knees.” When I remained frozen, he pulled on a pair of gloves, walked over, and hooked his cool fingers into my waistband, yanking them down. The second the privacy curtain closed, he suddenly ripped off his glasses and leaned over me, his warm lips brushing against my earlobe. “We never finished last time, did we? So whose is it? Hmm?” 1 Fate has a twisted sense of humor, always arranging for me to run into my ex at my most humiliating moments. The moment the name “Dr. Sean Boyce” flashed on the screen in the waiting room, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. It has to be a different person! I clutched my appointment slip, praying to every god I could think of. But when I pushed open the door to his office, there he was. The white coat did little to hide his tall, lean frame, and the pair of familiar eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses made my breath catch in my throat. He didn't even look up from his keyboard, his voice clipped and cool. “Name?” He spoke as if he’d never seen me before in his life. “Chloe Reaser, is that right?” he continued, his tone relentlessly professional. “What seems to be the problem?” Wow. We’d been broken up for all of two months, and he had the "complete stranger" act down perfectly. He was ruthless. Then again, the things I’d said to him were ten times more ruthless. My parting words had been: “Don’t even think about seeing me again after this, unless you’re on your deathbed begging for me. Then, maybe, I’ll consider stopping by.” I guess my words came true. Except I was the one lying down… His appointments were impossible to get. I hadn’t been able to book one myself. It was my mom who’d deployed the power of cash, paying a scalper double the price for a last-minute cancellation. I’d overheard some girls in the waiting room gushing about how handsome the doctor was, how the pictures online didn’t do him justice. They said you didn’t even need medicine; just getting his number was enough to cure you. His face was just that devastatingly handsome. At the time, I’d wondered if all doctors with that name were blessed by the genetic lottery. I had to see for myself. And now I had. Devastatingly handsome, indeed. Except the devastation was all mine. 2 I, who could normally talk my way out of anything, felt like my tongue had been stolen the moment I stepped into his office. My mom, however, was completely oblivious to the turbulent undercurrents between Sean and me. She launched into a dramatic recital of my symptoms. “Doctor, her period is two months late! It’s either a baby or a disease. You have to give our Chloe a thorough check-up!” The sheer awkwardness was enough to power a small city. I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. “Of course, ma’am. Let’s take this one step at a time,” Sean said, his voice the epitome of a caring, reassuring physician. It was the kind of calm demeanor that put patients at ease. But I saw it. As he lowered his head to write on my chart, I caught a glimpse of his notes: “Patient presents with suspected pregnancy. Delayed menstruation. A seamless rebound is one thing, but to be pregnant with someone else’s kid after only two months…” Hey! Was that last part really necessary for my medical record? “Are you sexually active?” It was a standard GYN question, especially concerning a missed period. Before I could speak, my mom jumped in. “Oh, yes, yes! And Chloe and her boyfriend are so in love, they’re practically inseparable!” “Have you taken a pregnancy test?” “Not yet! The moment I found out her period was late, I rushed her over. It’s so hard to get an appointment these days,” my mom chirped. “I see.” On the surface, Sean’s expression was perfectly placid. But my danger senses were tingling, and I could see the truth. The hand gripping the ballpoint pen was clenched so tightly his knuckles had turned white. The pen’s tip was bent at a sharp angle, pressing so hard it had torn through three layers of paper on the clipboard. Dude, get a grip! That’s my medical chart, not your personal death note! “So, it’s very likely she’s pregnant, right?” my mom asked, her voice filled with hopeful anticipation. I shot up from my chair. “You know, I think I’m fine now! I suddenly feel like my period is about to start!” I knew Sean’s possessive streak. If I stayed here any longer, I was doomed. But my mom shoved me right back down. “What are you talking about, child? Do you know how hard this appointment was to get? Now that we’re here, you tell the doctor whatever is bothering you.” I was on pins and needles, a knot of dread in my stomach. Sean finally adopted a thoughtful tone. “Ma’am, perhaps Chloe is a bit shy with you in the room.” Realization dawned on my mom’s face. As she walked toward the door, she said, “What’s there to be shy about? I’m your mother, I’ve seen it all.” But do you know what kind of man this Dr. Boyce is? I screamed internally. In bed, he’s an absolute animal! This whole saintly doctor thing is just an act! 3 If my life were a movie, it would be a disaster film, and right now, the camera would be holding a long, dramatic shot on my face. The office door slowly clicked shut. To me, it sounded like the fall of a guillotine. The sole audience member for our little drama was finally gone. Sean dropped the act. He tossed down the pen he hadn’t even been using to write notes. The cool, aloof, ascetic doctor was gone. Behind his silver-framed glasses, his handsome eyes glinted with a cold smile. “Well, well, Chloe. You’ve really outdone yourself. Who’s the father?” “It’s only been two months, and you’re already knocked up.” “That person who texted me wasn’t wrong. You really are a fickle…” He cut himself off, his voice turning icy. “Forget it. From now on, you’re just a patient. This has nothing to do with me.” I was completely lost. What text? What did he mean, fickle? Had Sean fallen for a phishing scam? The heavens could bear witness to my devotion! Okay, fine, before Sean, I might have been a little bit of a flirt. My first meeting with him was neither romantic nor dramatic. One night, after finally hitting a brutal client deadline, I’d called up a few friends to go see a male revue. The crappy GPS led us to a quiet, upscale cocktail lounge instead. We didn’t look too closely and just walked in. The bar was chic, but my tastes are more… straightforward. After a quick look at the menu, I ordered a rum and Coke. As luck would have it, Sean was one of the bar’s investors and happened to be on-site. When he brought our drinks, he offered a gentle warning. “Mixing cola and alcohol isn’t great for your heart rate…” By then, my friends had already plied me with a round of shots. I was dizzy, and all I saw was a ridiculously handsome man standing before me. I grabbed his hand. “Wow, the dancers at this place are incredible! How much for a night?” “Damn, look at these hands, these abs… The quality here is top-notch.” I was too drunk to remember the details, but according to my friends, I didn’t just touch him; I tried to wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him. They were so mortified they wanted to crawl into a hole and pretend they didn’t know me. The next day, when I sobered up and learned what I’d done, I was mortified too. But I couldn’t get his face out of my head. I shamelessly went back to the bar to find him, claiming I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't stop myself from tugging at his sleeve and admiring his chest. I did this for over a week until finally, Sean snapped. He cornered me against a wall. “Chloe, are you here to apologize or to grope me?” I just giggled. “If you’re with me, you can’t go to any more male revues,” he’d said, laying down his terms. “And you can’t oogle other handsome men. Can you do that?” “Of course! From now on, my heart belongs only to you,” I’d sworn. That night was actually the first time I’d ever tried to go to a male revue. It was just for the novelty. By a twist of fate, I’d stumbled upon the man of my dreams, and I truly hadn’t looked at anyone else since. I was the one who’d delivered the harsh breakup lines, but he was the one who had initiated it. His reason? “I’m too busy at the hospital. I don’t have enough time for you, and I don’t want to hold you back.” What kind of garbage excuse was that? Naturally, I’d fired back with my own harsh words, determined not to lose face. But now, he was calling me “fickle” and mentioning some mysterious text? There had to be more to this story. 4 The reason I hadn’t chased after Sean these past two months was because I wanted freedom. After we got together, he told me his real job was being a doctor. And the biggest problem with having a doctor for a boyfriend is that he micromanages everything. Other couples would stroll hand-in-hand, sipping iced milk tea on a hot day. Sean would stop me, explain how cold drinks on a hot day were a direct assault on my lungs, and hand me a thermos of ginger-date tea instead. When ordering takeout, I craved bold flavors—spicy stir-fry, grilled skewers. He would launch into a detailed analysis of how those foods increased my risk for various diseases by X percent, scaring me into canceling my order. So, when he broke up with me, even though I was confused, a small part of me was relieved. I could finally gallop through a paradise of fried foods, late-night street food, ice-cold beer, and spicy crawfish. No more pinching my nose to down the various “wellness potions” he concocted. Those harsh words I’d said were just a front, a way to keep him from showing up at my door and finding me binge-watching shows while eating street food at 3 AM. For the past two months, my social media projected the image of a heartbroken girl, posting lyrics from sad love songs like “How Could You Bear to See Me Sad” and “Thinking of You All Night.” But in reality, freed from his watchful eye, I went wild. I ate my way through every takeout menu in my neighborhood. I binged on anything and everything—icy, greasy, scalding hot. I stayed up all night, every night. And I’d managed to land myself in the hospital. My plan had been to eat my fill, then shamelessly go win him back. But fate had other plans, and here we were. And damn it, if I’d known I was going to see my ex, I never would have worn my Hello Kitty matching bra and panty set! The cat’s big, innocent eyes were staring right out from my chest, looking utterly ridiculous. Every other time I’d seen Sean, I’d dressed to kill. Lace, silk, beaded thongs—anything to keep his eyes glued to me. If he saw that my true preference was for cartoon cats, my reputation would be ruined… 5 While I was having a silent panic attack, Sean’s voice cut through the air, cold and commanding. “On the bed. Shirt up, pants down.” I clamped my hands on my waistband, refusing to budge. “There isn’t a single part of you I haven’t seen. What’s there to be shy about?” When his words didn’t work, Sean decided to use his hands. “No, you can’t!” I wriggled like a worm on a hook. The commotion must have alerted my mom. She walked back in to see me struggling desperately to escape his grasp and crawl off the exam table. She boomed, “Child, what are you doing? To a doctor, there’s no such thing as gender! He’s just trying to help you!” She rushed forward and pinned me down. “Dr. Boyce, please, just examine her.” “I want a different doctor!” I croaked. “This is the hardest hospital to get an appointment at! I was refreshing my phone for three days straight to get this slot! You can’t just leave!” my mom said, extinguishing my last flicker of hope. “Besides, didn’t you say you wanted to marry your boyfriend and spend the rest of your lives together? Do you want to drag this illness out and make him worry?” “He’s already so busy every day, and you want to cause him more trouble? Don’t you love him?” In my mind, Sean and I were on a fake break, so I hadn't told my mom. Everything she was saying now was a regurgitation of the beautiful future I had described to her months ago, back when Sean and I were still together. These vows of a shared life were sweet and moving. But in this context, the more my mom talked, the darker Sean’s face became. He thought she was talking about the new boyfriend who’d supposedly knocked me up. And I, thinking about the tangled mess I’d have to explain later, felt a headache coming on. A jarring ringtone suddenly shattered the tense atmosphere: “We should have a clean break…” Sean’s phone was playing the same few lines of a sad breakup song on a loop. Talk about holding a grudge. If he was really over it, would he be using that as his ringtone? He silenced the screen, and in that brief moment, I caught a glimpse of his lock screen. It was a photo of us together. Except it was in black and white. Was he mourning our dead love? It hit me then. The breakup, for him, was real. 6 I didn’t care about my Hello Kitty pajamas anymore. Just then, Sean finally cut my mom off. “I need to perform the examination now. Family members, please wait outside.” Seeing that I was now lying obediently on the table, my mom shot me a warning look, pulled the privacy curtain, and left. As my shirt was slowly lifted, Hello Kitty’s big, cute face popped into view. And I’m a C-cup, for the record. Sean glanced down. “Your taste these days… is truly something else.” With my mom gone, I seized the opportunity to explain. “What my mom was saying… it’s not about some new boyfriend. I’ve only ever been with you.” Sean just snorted, ignoring me completely. He squirted cold gel onto my stomach, the probe sliding across my pale skin. With only my mouth free to move, I decided to launch a nostalgia attack. “Sean, maybe it’s your baby. My period has been late for two months, remember?” “And if you count the days, it lines up perfectly with that last night we were together.” “Is that so?” There was no warmth in his eyes. “We didn’t exactly finish things that night, did we?” Suddenly, Sean, still in his white coat, leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. His warm breath traced the shell of my ear, and my treacherous heart began to pound. He was so close, it felt like he was flirting. Was he going to… right here, right now? A thousand X-rated scenarios flashed through my mind.
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