Divorce With Benefits: A Second Chance At Love
Chapter 89: The Primal Desire

Chapter 89: The Primal Desire

Lydia’s eyes widened the hurt in them like a physical blow. Her lips parted as if to speak, but instead, her voice came out in a trembling whisper. "I remember very well that my daughter died, Arthur. I don’t need you to remind me." Tears welled up in her eyes, and her tone cracked under the weight of her grief. "I held her in my arms as she took her last breath. I remember every second of it."

Her words were heavy, each syllable laced with an ache so profound that it left Arthur momentarily speechless. Before he could gather himself, Lydia turned sharply and began to leave, her movements brisk but unsteady, like someone barely holding themselves together.

"Lydia!" Arthur called after her, his voice thick with regret as he followed. "Please, I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry. Stop! Listen to me!"

But Lydia didn’t stop. She continued walking, her shoulders tense and her breaths uneven, as though her body were fighting the weight of memories she could never escape.

Arthur stood frozen for a moment, cursing himself for letting the word slip, for reawakening a pain he had tried so hard to shield her from. The image of her broken face lingered in his mind, a bitter reminder of how deeply she still carried that loss.

He rubbed his hands over his face, exhaling heavily. He had tried for years to protect Lydia, to guide her back to some semblance of peace, but it seemed the wounds of the past would never fully heal.

"Damn it," he muttered under his breath, glancing toward the hallway where she’d disappeared. There was no undoing what he’d said, but he couldn’t let her spiral deeper into this obsession—not when it was hurting her more than she realized.

Steeling himself, Arthur quickened his pace, determined to mend the rift he had unintentionally deepened. When he reached the balcony door, he found Lydia standing there, her hand resting on the frame, her shoulders sagging under the weight of emotions she couldn’t fully express.

Hearing his calls, she turned to face him, a forced smile on her lips that did little to mask the tears welling in her eyes.

"I know you’re worried about me, but it’s not the same as that time, Artie," she said softly, her voice trembling. She glanced down at her phone, her fingers brushing over the screen as if it could somehow bridge the gap between her and the person she longed to reach. "She’s... she’s never going to talk to me again. I know it. She loves her husband too much, and after what my family did to her... to them... she’s not going to so much as look in my direction."

Her voice caught, the weight of her guilt constricting her throat. Tears spilled over despite her attempts to blink them away.

Arthur moved to her without hesitation, enveloping her in his arms. She didn’t resist, letting herself sink into the warmth of his embrace, her head resting against his chest. He rubbed slow, comforting circles on her back, his voice a gentle murmur against the storm of emotions swirling in her.

"I know," he said softly, his tone steady yet laced with understanding. "Maybe we can stay here a little while longer... check on her... make sure she’s okay. How does that sound?"

Lydia pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his gaze. Gratitude shimmered in her tear-filled eyes, though her smile was still weak. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She swallowed hard, trying to contain the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over again.

Arthur pressed a kiss to the top of her head, holding her close. He didn’t think staying here was necessary—not for a girl who might never forgive them, no matter what they did. But it wasn’t about the girl. It was about Lydia. If staying gave his wife even a sliver of solace, if it helped her find peace with the shadows of their shared past, then it was worth it.

Even if it cost him more than time.

-----

The next morning, Jerica found herself standing in the hospital park, her arms crossed as a light breeze toyed with her hair. The park was a modest patch of greenery tucked away on hospital grounds, a place meant to offer patients and visitors a reprieve from the clinical sterility of the building. But even outside, the hospital’s essence lingered.

Benches were scattered under large trees, most of them occupied by weary visitors or patients with IV poles in tow. A nurse pushed an elderly man in a wheelchair down the cobblestone path, his blanket tucked carefully around his legs. In the distance, a child played by the duck pond, tossing breadcrumbs to a flock of eager ducks, while her mother sat nearby, keeping a watchful eye. There was a faint hum of life—birds chirping, leaves rustling, and the occasional murmur of conversations drifting through the air.

Jerica perched on a wooden bench near the pond, staring at the rippling water with an expression of forced interest. The scene should have been calming, but instead, it only made her more restless. Jared had insisted she take a walk, promising it would do her good to step outside.

She suspected he just wanted her to get some air—not that he meant anything beyond that. But an irrational thought crept in: maybe he wanted to be alone with the nurse who’d been fussing over him all morning.

Jerica shook her head, banishing the idea. She knew better. Jared wasn’t that kind of man. Deep down, she trusted him implicitly. Still, the thought left her unsettled, her mind casting about for distraction.

As her gaze swept across the park, it landed on a couple walking slowly along the pathway. They looked to be in their late thirties. The man’s arm was around his wife, his hand steady and reassuring as he guided her. Their faces were somber, etched with years of weariness. The woman cradled her belly lightly with one hand, her movements delicate, almost reverent.

Jerica tried not to eavesdrop, but their conversation floated her way on the breeze.

"It’ll implant perfectly this time," the man said, his voice low but filled with a quiet determination. "I have a feeling."

The woman glanced down, her expression a mixture of hope and doubt. She gently stroked her stomach. "I hope so too. They say this doctor is the best. Maybe this time..." Her voice trailed off, heavy with unspoken fears and the weight of past disappointments.

The couple passed by Jerica’s bench, falling silent when they noticed her. But their words lingered, sinking into her like stones.

Jerica stared at the pond again, her thoughts swirling. That couple—they must have been visiting the hospital’s fertility clinic. She’d heard it was one of the best in the country. Her heart clenched as she thought about their struggle, their quiet resilience.

How many couples longed for the chance to bring a child into the world? It was such a natural, primal desire—a hope that endured even in the face of heartbreak.

Before she realized it, her hand moved to her own stomach, her fingers pressing lightly against her abdomen. The gesture startled her, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let her hand linger there, a bittersweet ache blooming in her chest.

She wanted a baby too. She always had, though it wasn’t something she and Jared had ever truly talked about, let alone tried.

She swallowed hard. Jared wouldn’t change his mind about having a child, she was sure of that. He had his reasons—reasons he believed were sound—reasons she didn’t know—but it didn’t dull her longing.

Her gaze drifted toward the hospital building, her eyes catching sight of the fertility clinic’s entrance in the distance. She bit her lip, hesitating as thoughts tumbled through her mind.

Could she? Should she?

After a moment of deliberation, something shifted in her expression—a flicker of resolve. Jerica rose to her feet, her jaw set as she turned toward the clinic. With determined steps, she made her way forward, the echo of the couple’s hope guiding her path.

-----

"You went for a long walk..." Jared said softly, a faint smile tugging at his pale lips. He stretched out his hand toward Jerica as she stepped into the room.

Jerica paused, her gaze settling on him. He was propped up on the hospital bed, his legs stretched out under the thin blanket. The IV lines tethered him to the machines, their steady beeping an unrelenting reminder of his fragile state. His skin was ashen, his exhaustion evident in the droop of his eyelids, but he still managed to smile for her.

She walked to him, taking his outstretched hand into hers. It was warm, despite everything. "I’m sorry. Did you look for me?" she asked, her voice laced with guilt.

Jared gave a faint chuckle, gently tugging her closer until she was standing right by his bedside. Without a word, he leaned into her, resting his head lightly against her chest.

Jerica hesitated for just a moment before her hand instinctively moved to his hair. She stroked it gently, her fingers threading through the dark strands. The motion was soothing, almost natural, as though this quiet comfort was a language they both understood.

"Did you eat?" Jared asked after a moment, his voice muffled but still laced with concern.