"You might as well just give up."
I listened to his voice repeatedly as I looked at my childhood friend, Renee Ryder, sitting beside me with a worried expression.
"Phillip, about the child, are you really not planning to tell Jocelyn?"
She said, "If you say the embryo transfer is successful and you two will have a child, I believe Jocelyn will come back."
"No, I don't want it anymore." I looked at the photos the hospital sent.
In a small petri dish.
It was the child of Jocelyn and me, the continuation of our love that we had longed for for so many years. But now, suddenly, I didn't want to be a father anymore. I didn't want my child to grow up with the same broken childhood trauma as me.
I told Renee, "From the moment she chose Alexander, from the moment she agreed to be his son's mother--"
"She no longer deserves to be the mother of my child."
I had just come out of the doctor's office when I saw Jocelyn, who had accompanied Alden to the hospital. She saw me, instinctively letting go of Alden's hand and calling out to me.
"Phillip!"
"What are you doing here?"
She saw the test result in my hand and questioned me as she was about to come closer.
"Are you sick?"