The sun is shining gently as I join Liam in the backseat of the Mercedes. I smile tightly at him, masking the small displeasure and anxiety filled in my heart. It's time to see Dr. Adams, and what to expect is still wrecking me inside.

"Ready?" Liam shoves his phone into the pocket of his leather jacket, regarding me with a tiny smile.

"Hmm." I nod, scooting myself to his side.

Mr. Prescott starts the car upon Liam's slight nod via the rearview mirror.

"Some music, Ma'am?" Mr. Prescot asks me as the car starts moving.

"Yes, please. Christmas songs will be better than any other," I reply and suck in a soft breath.

Calm down, Kira. Take it easy.

"Very well." Mr. Prescott's hand reaches the dashboard and scintillating voices of Boney M fill up in the air some moment later.

I lay my head on Liam's shoulder, flowing with the lyrics heartily. In response, my husband places a soft kiss in my hair, uttering no word.

He's been too quiet today, but I understand him. What we're going through can't be easy on him. I hope it goes well with Dr. Adams.

Dr. Adam's office is exactly as I remember. The only difference is that today I'm not striding off like a crazed woman, as I did upon learning about my condition a few days ago. Sighing, I push back the horrid memory to the deepest part of my brain, focusing solely on the present.

"Welcome once again," Dr. Adams says cordially while undressing her white coat. Gingerly, she hangs it on the wooden hanger beside her desk. "I hope you're both fine. Mr. Darcy, Kira, how are you?" Her voice comes out hopeful as she takes a seat.

She's gorgeous in her pink pantsuit, her hair tied up in a professional bun.

"I'm fine, I guess," I answer, slowly accepting that staying positive is the beginning of everything good.

"I'm glad to hear that. And I'm very happy to see you both today, because let me be very honest with you now that we're ready to start the treatment." Dr. Adam's face takes a serious turn, sitting straight in her chair with fingers laced on the desk.

Nodding curtly, Liam sets his attention on her.

Dr. Adams proceeds. "Even though the process is likely to be physical, the battle is always an emotional one. It can be stressful and frustrating at times—tiring even—but it's never impossible to win it. You need each other, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, in order to make this work. Some people tend to give up in the process, but if you're patient and persistent enough, the result is likely to be positive."

She explains further about the mental preparations, and the things to expect during the treatment process. We listen attentively, taking notes by heart, and I remain at ease knowing I'm not alone.

Finally, Dr. Adams lays down all possible treatments for infertility, after handing us the brochures containing the basic information on the matter.

"In your condition, what we need is to stimulate the ovaries so that the ovulation can take place as it should," she says expertly, eyes on me. "But it's not necessary to use the hormonal injection or infertility drugs; you can opt for the implantation of your husband's semen to your uterus for that matter."

"Intrauterine insemination,'" Liam mutters, gliding his gaze from the brochure to Dr. Adams face. She nods affirmatively. "Which is a surgery, I suppose?" he adds, his voice dry, and eyes curious.

"Not as extreme as it sounds, Mr. Darcy." Dr. Adams smiles. "But the procedure is intrusive."

I feel a bile rising in my throat at the mention of 'surgery'. It won't reach this stage, will it? A sudden fright spikes in my blood, the option sounding too intense to handle.

But she said it's not extreme, right? Probably it doesn't involve any part of my body to be cut open. Gosh, I can't even imagine that. I've never had any sort of surgery in my life.

"I see," Liam remarks coolly, returning his gaze on the written information. "And what about this . . . Assisted Reproduction Technology?" He glances back at Dr. Adams, and despite being mindful of my own trance, I do exactly the same.

"Well . . ." Dr. Adams takes a small sigh, reclining back. Her blue-grey eyes squint a little, as though she's searching for a befitting explanation. "In that one, the woman's eggs and man's semen are fertilized in the lab, and after a while the embryo is taken to a woman's uterus to grow like a natural pregnancy."

"Oh God," I blurt out, dismayed.

They all sound so horrendous!

"It's a bit unnerving, I know," Dr. Adams remarks. "And some couples decide to use the surrogate to carry the child. That way—"

"No, that is out of the question!" Liam admonishes. My eyes widen. "We'd rather adopt if it's our only option left, but we're not involving a third party in this." He casts a glance at me, searching for some kind of censure.

A surrogate? Having Liam's seeds growing into another woman's womb? Whatever the method may be, I don't think I want this one. He's right. We'd rather adopt a child than this option.

After all, the world has so many kids in search of families.

And when I think of the movie 'When the Bough Breaks' I can't help but deny this option all together. It's ironic that Liam and I watched it just yesterday, which explains his reaction about surrogates.

He holds my hand and squeezes it tightly. He knows what I'm thinking of, and I know he's thinking the same thing. If I won't even manage to get pregnant, then I'm open for adoption.

"In that case, I'm inclined to believe that your decision is to start the hormonal boost using the fertility drugs. Are we agreeing on this?" Dr. Adams asks.

"What do you say, my love?" Liam consults me, eyes sweet and soothing for my running nerves. "I do not want you to stress over this, so let's take one step at a time. Shall we start with that?"

"Yeah," I breathe softly, biting my bottom lip thoughtfully. God, give me strength. "But is it okay if I just go straight to hormonal injection instead? You mentioned it has proved more success than the drugs, right?" I ask the doctor.

"It's true," Dr. Adams affirms, shifting her posture by leaning forward onto the table. "You can start with the injection directly, it won't be a problem at all. It's much better, I might add."

"Okay." I smile tightly, slightly overwhelmed by the situation in general.

Liam's hand squeezes mine gently, for the umpteenth time, reminding me that I'm not alone. My lips curl into a small, grateful smile. It's going to be fine.

Back to Dr. Adams, Liam asks, "And how long would it take? Because it sounds like—"

"I won't lie to you, Mr. Darcy, I can not tell how long it may take," she says, sincerity lacing her voice. "It may take several months, a year, or many years. But as I said before, it's the first stage of treatment, which means, we can take another stage if it proves to be a failure. We just need to be consistent and follow all the instructions given."

I decide to accept her unknown fate. Dr. Adams' explanations on the injection are well understood, and the plan to begin the treatment comes into action. I'm ready for this battle.

"Tomorrow we'll start the dose," Dr. Adams tells me. "I'll show you everything you need to do regarding the injection and self-care. It's not complicated at all, I promise."

"Okay," I murmur.

"Well, that's all. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to call me. Remember, I'm here to help you with whatever I can, and we are together on this," Dr. Adams insists, and I feel even safer with her.

We get up once we're satisfied with this round.

"Thank you." Liam stretches his hand and the doctor shakes it.

"I'll see you tomorrow then?" I smile indulgently at her.

"I'll be right here," Dr. Adams replies. I stride over to hug her, instead of a handshake. She hugs me back. "Take care of yourself. And remember, Kira . . . you are not a barren," she whispers in my ear.

I needed that.

***

Mr. Prescott is immersed into a newspaper as Liam opens the backdoor and holds it open for me. Smiling softly, I hop in and my husband follows suit.

Pitching his copy of 'The Times' on the passenger seat, Mr. Prescott inquires, "Home, Sir?" He gazes at Liam via the rearview mirror.

"No," Liam replies as he settles in. "Mayfair."

"Mayfair? Why?" I quiz, face frowned.

"We're going shopping."

"Huh?" I gawp.

"Yes, my love. Your wardrobe needs more clothes, and I think I enjoy shopping with you."

He is trying to cheer me up. I easily understand his lovely intention.

My husband manages to spoil me today. With several swaps of his card he succeeds to lift my damp mood. Frankly, I never knew I'd be addicted to shopping as I do lately, but I've got Liam to blame now, and I mostly love doing it with him.

His majestic looks of approval whenever I step out of the dressing rooms are so heartwarming, and super funny whenever he disapproves of something. In a lingerie store he forces his way into the dressing room, and we nearly turn into teenagers in love.

"You look fucking hot, Mrs. Darcy," he whispers, eyes on the exquisite piece of black kinky underwear set, from bra to sheer hold-up.

"Oh yeah?" I tilt my head to the side, responding to his possessive hold around my neck.

A large mirror is facing us, reflecting our sultry action behind the curtains. I slowly turn around and our lips meet for a third time, kissing each other deeper.

"I think I'm getting hard, Kira. I better get out of here," he mutters, and we laugh discreetly. "We are taking that." He's referring to the lingerie.

"Okay. Let me change," I utter with a smile, he steals another kiss, and off he goes.

I fucking love him.

All in all, his efforts are never in vain, for I'm indeed complacent with everything he does for me. After a long moment of moving from one store to another, we gather a lot of shopping bags and get ourselves ready to go home.

Poor Mr. Prescott must be very tired. He pulls the car over, coming from his own errands I suppose. Liam fills our bags in the car trunk and we both hop in. I smile at the old man through the rearview mirror, and he returns as given.

"Home, please," Liam tells him.

"Indeed." I huddle up closer to my husband.

With this churning cold blanketing the streets of London, where else would I want to be other than in my little bubble?

"Thank you for today," I whisper against his neck.

"My pleasure," he returns, his voice low and sweet.