The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 26

“It’s not a major issue,” he announced.

Penelope felt a surge of excitement. After her accident, she had seen several specialists, all of whom had told her that her chances of conceiving were slim. Though she’d tried to convince herself it didn’t matter, a part of her had always felt a pang of regret.

“Are you saying I can get pregnant?”

“Which quack told you that you couldn’t?”

“Uh…”

Several, actually, including some of the most respected experts in the field.

The old doctor tilted his head to the side. “Your uterus was indeed damaged, but it’s clear you’ve been taking good care of yourself, so it has healed well over the years. From now on, just take the herbs I prescribe once a day. I guarantee your womb will be fully recovered in three months.”

Overjoyed, Penelope found herself tilting her head as well. He was talking to her, wasn't he? So why was he looking at the space behind her?

“Ahem.” The doctor cleared his throat and straightened his head. “During these three months, you are strictly forbidden from having intercourse.”

“Okay.”

“Abstain from alcohol and cigarettes.”

“Okay.”

“Keep warm. Even though it’s summer, make sure you keep your lower abdomen covered.”

“Okay.”

“These instructions are very important. Are you even listening?”

Penelope blinked. Was he serious? She had been saying ‘okay’ the entire time.

The old doctor huffed in annoyance. “If you want a child, you need to take this seriously.”

Theodore Stapleton stood up, his expression impassive. “It doesn’t matter who she is.”

“I think she’s a good match for you.”

“Is there a problem with her health?”

At this, the doctor’s demeanor turned serious. “Her uterus was injured, it’s true, but it can be healed. However, she must take the medicine every single day without fail. If she misses a dose, the three-month clock resets. You must also remember all the restrictions I mentioned and make sure she follows them.”

“See that you do. You know I don’t like to waste my time on futile efforts.”

Futile efforts?

The old doctor rubbed his nose. Did his patient really view the act of love as nothing more than a procreation task?

As Theodore turned to leave, the doctor quickly stopped him and held out a hand. When Theodore looked at him blankly, he grumbled, “Money. Your wife just had a consultation. Aren’t you going to pay for it?”