Sophia Laurent visited the hospital every single day without fail.

She winced each time the fertility injection pierced her abdomen.

As the treatment progressed, her ovaries swelled uncomfortably.

Her lower belly felt heavy, as if stuffed with cotton.

Ethan Sullivan traced the constellation of needle marks on her skin, his Adam's apple bobbing.

"Does it hurt?" His fingertips brushed the bruises gently.

Sophia shook her head with a smile. "This is nothing."

She teased him, "Just wait until I'm pregnant—my belly will stretch with stretch marks."

Ethan immediately pulled out his phone. "I consulted the doctor. Stretch marks are mostly genetic."

His eyes brightened. "Your mother never got them?"

"No."

He exhaled in relief and tossed his phone aside. "Then we're fine."

Sophia suddenly turned serious. "What if someone tries to seduce you while I'm pregnant?"

Ethan's expression darkened instantly.

"You might as well tell me to die."

Sophia burst into laughter.

She poked his chest. "Remember, men need to protect themselves out there."

"Got it." Ethan caught her finger. "I'll wear a sign that says 'My wife makes bombs.'"

They dissolved into laughter together.

The treatments forced Sophia to put all her work on hold.

One day, Kyle Grant called about a Tang dynasty painting needing restoration.

"Not now." Sophia rubbed her swollen abdomen. "I'm doing IVF."

Silence stretched on the other end.

"No rush. Whenever you're ready."

That evening, Kyle arrived with bags of nourishing gifts.

Dried red dates and goji berries covered the table.

"Don't do this." Sophia sighed. "You should live your own life."

Kyle lowered his gaze. "Consider it from an older brother to his sister."

When he left, his straight back resembled a lone pine tree.

On egg retrieval day, Sophia chose general anesthesia.

She woke with a dull ache in her abdomen, like menstrual cramps.

The good news: five embryos had successfully formed.

After screening, three high-quality ones remained.

"The first transfer can implant up to two," the doctor adjusted his glasses.

The procedure proved easier than expected.

Sophia lay flat, counting patterns on the ceiling.

Natalie Sullivan arrived dragging two enormous suitcases.

"Sophia!" She threw herself at the bedside. "I bought clothes for boys and girls!"

Sophia laughed helplessly. "They haven't even implanted yet."

"It'll work!" Natalie whispered conspiratorially. "Let me tell you about Alexander—"

Sophia's ears burned. "Stop!"

Fourteen days later, the hospital corridor felt icy.

Sophia clutched the test results, her hands trembling.

"Let me." Ethan took the report.

His expression froze momentarily before softening into a smile.

"It's okay, we can—"

Sophia had already read his eyes.

She stood abruptly. "I need some air."

"I'll come with you."

"No." She looked out the window. "I want to go somewhere far away."