To My Future Cheating Husband

XXXVI. Why Luke Parker

Ava's POV:

I clenched and unclenched my fingers as Dr.LaTorre informed us of the results. He asked earlier if we want to know it separately before glancing at me. That look, itself, meant bad news.

I sat there, feeling the tip of my shoe digging into tiles as he presents us the results one by one. Then, there was my folder, resting beneath his folded hands. I kept staring at it, praying that the results would be the same as my dad and brother.

That, I'm normal.

That there isn't anything wrong with me.

His hand reaches for my folder, cracking it open. It felt as if the world had slow down, each word exiting his mouth was sugar-coated, dessert before a disaster. I know, I know what he is going to tell us next. Everyone sitting beside me was nodding in understanding, smiling at the information, ears listening eagerly.

And then the bomb dropped.

"What's low AMH?" Trevon asked him.

Dr.LaTorre cleared his throat before glancing at me. "AMH or anti-mullerian hormone is a substance produced by granulosa cells in ovarian follicles."

Trevon scratched his head, exchanging looks with our parents. "What does that mean?"

He exhaled, seemingly uncomfortable with the subject. At that moment, he probably wished that he asked a female doctor to handle the results rather than himself. However, as a professional, he must face all trials whether he wants to do it or not. "Low AMH is the cause of infertility, is a symptom of diminished ovarian reserve."

"You mean-" mom trailed off. I could feel all the eyes pinning on me.

"It means that your daughter will have a difficult time having children Mrs.Makee."

After the bomb was dropped Dr.LaTorre recommend me to a specialist, someone who can talk to me about the situation. I didn't know how I feel at the moment, no I did.

It felt like a whole rock had been pulled out of my chest. I've always known there was something wrong with me; particularly after Mina got pregnant with Luke's baby. However, I couldn't accept it. For twenty years, I couldn't bring myself to go to the doctor.

And as I sat there, with the folder in my lap, I stared into the distance. In the back of the hospital, there was a small garden, generally filled with flowers during the spring. The flowers would run until it hit the forest, fluttering with green trees. I heard it's especially beautiful during that season; how everything is so green and misty, like a dream.

In the fall, there's nothing but branches. Dead. Hollow. Empty.

Mom wrapped her arms around me, following Trevon, then dad "You'll be okay," she whispered. "It's not your fault," she would say. Her tears drip down my arms, sliding until it reaches the folder. I tighten my grip on it until the edges began wrinkling.

The days continued passing and my therapy session had arrived. Mom dropped me off today, alone, since Trevon was smart enough to trip on his shoelace and got his head stuck between the stairs. Dad is at home cutting the bars out while screaming at him.

Passing by several offices, I saw a few familiar faces. My eyes squinted at the three figures in front of me before I look upward towards the sign - Marriage and Family Therapist.

Why is Luke and his parents in therapy?

Luke stood there with headphones hovered above his ears, his baggy eyes pinned towards the screen between his hands. There wasn't a hint of emotions on his face except for a tint of irritation.