Olivia entered my office and the scene shifted. Her presence seemed to turn the immaculate surroundings from a monument of success into a theater for human struggle. She moved elegantly while her dark blue dress whispered on the smooth floor. Her heels, although high, made no sound—a sharp contrast to the clamor of struggle developing inside me.
Her voice shaking just so slightly, she whispered, "Ethan, darling." She approached me and every feature of her face revealed anxiety. Just now I left Dr. Patel's office.
Her remarks settled just in the center ground between us. Every beat sounded like a drum alerting me of the weight of what lay ahead, and my heart quickened. Though nothing could have ready me for the force of her confession, I had ready myself for this.
She lowered her head to start crying unshed tears. " Ethan, the results are not that outstanding. Dr. Patel claims your sperm count is far too low. We will naturally not be able to conceive.
Though kind, her voice cut over me like a blow sending me a whirl-around. My face buried in her familiar scent; I sank into her arms. I desired her comfort even if her comments brought great emotional suffering.
More to me, fundamentally than to her. We will work it out, I said. The words sounded empty even when they left my mouth. Like trying to clutch smoke, the hope I longed to hang to seemed far away.
Olivia battled to cool herself; her shoulders shook slightly and her control slipped. "Ethan, I find myself afraid. Should there be no way around this, what then? Should the family we have always wanted become unworkable, what would happen?
Her sensitivity also grabbed my fragility. Our common goal of starting a family had been so specific, but then it seemed to be within our grasp. Though I wanted to be strong for her and offer comfort and answers, I was battling my fears and shortcomings.
"We have always faced challenges together," I said with a solid voice. One more is this. Whichever it is, we will work out something.
Olivia nodded, clearly dubious in her eyes. Long breathed, she tried to cover her worry with a thin coating of calm. "All I ask from us, Ethan, is decency. I have to find something to get enthused about.
The surroundings felt to be crowding everything about us, the high-tech office with its glossy surfaces offering minimal comfort. Not only were the scientific and financial outcomes dragging down our responsibilities, but also our common aims and aspirations. They seemed now delicate, like a house of cards.
"I know," I responded, sounding subdued but firm. We will be good too. We will set this up.
Olivia looked for consolation in my eyes. She looked obsessed with the flutter of hope mixed with fear. This was the look that caught my inner conflict—that between optimism and despair.
We stood there in silence that communicated so much for a little moment. Though such was the unconscious thread drawing us together, the clear anguish of the situation was plain. I wanted to believe in a time when this was only a roadblock—not a dead end. Still, the ambiguity was a vicious opponent.
At last, Olivia mumbled. "I have to process this," her voice cracked. " I need some time. "
Understanding she needed alone, even though it hurt to see her so unhappy, I nodded. Get all the time you need. Right here and waiting will be me.
Again, the range of our situation caught me as she turned to leave the door gently shutting behind her. Left by myself with my points of view, I battled the realization that our road forward was suddenly clouded in question.
Now the cityscape beyond the windows seemed different, the crammed city seeming to be a far-off planet isolated from the private struggle taking place inside these walls. The personal challenges trying to wipe out what I had worked for seemed to surpass my accomplishment.
Perched there and staring out the far horizon, a new question began to grow in my thoughts. To accomplish the ideal of a family that felt so far off now, how far would I go? And to get it, from what would I be ready to give up?
The answers seemed to be shadows on the brink of my perspective, just slightly beyond reach. One thing was quite evident as I went through these concepts: unwelcome outcomes and difficult decisions were looming. My gaze followed the beautiful spires of San Francisco, their great beauty now a reminder of the distance separating my dreams from my reality.
Out of sleep, the intercom sounds frightened me. The voice of my assistant cut exactly and clearly. Marcus Holloway, Mr Blackwood, is on here. He has convened a brief conference.
Marcus adds: Not in years had I seen him, not since our graduation. His name brought to me high standards and late-night brainstorming sessions. He would want what right now? My head whirled trying to fit him into the jigsaw of my present circumstances.
"Send him in," I murmured, my voice without any trace of the inner battle.
Marcus showed up at my office rather later; his presence drew attention even with his laid-back approach. He wore a suit that fit him and radiated caution mixed with inquiry. He nodded as he walked over, his eyes flitting about the area until they rested on me.
"Ethan," he said, his voice friendly yet somewhat weighted. It was some years ago.
Marcus, instead I answered with outstretched hands. "This is great to see you. For what festivity are you here?
He shook my hand, his hold strong but rather reluctant. "We should discuss; after reading some news, I felt it was very necessary. Having followed your progress, I know Olivia and you have been managing challenging circumstances.
For a split second, my heart stopped. News travels fast in circles like these, and I had considered this moment would resurface. I looked over at the chairs before my desk. "Please have a seat."
Marcus sat down not turning away from me. His appearance hinted at a depth implying knowledge beyond what he was disclosing. "Ethan, I know this is a bad time, but I have to ask you straightforwardly: what are you hoping to do about your circumstances? Have you given all the options any thought?
His empathetic voice and wording got my pulse racing. I said, quietly, "I'm looking at every possibility." Still, the situation is more complex than it first seems.
Marcus leaned closer; his eyes slightly narrow. Here, Ethan, I could help you. Just list exactly what you need, anything at all.
His offer came suddenly, and I started to get hopeful. Still, his fervor seemed unusual. Exactly what Marcus are you implying?
He stopped briefly then spoke gently. "Although this sounds odd, what if there was a way to get your aim free from traditional restrictions? Often the only way to get results is to question the conventional knowledge.
His comments felt weighty to me. He seems to be implying something other than the accepted knowledge of repairs. "Are you intending..."?"
Marcus stopped and his voice dropped to a whisper. "I know someone quite helpful. someone able to react in an odd but effective way. Ethan, we have known one other for really a long period. Anybody could benefit from my help.
Trying to set his offer, my head spun. Marcus was advocating something against recognized moral norms. But the desperation I felt caused me to consider all possibilities, including ones involving tremendous risk.
One time the intercom buzzed before I could respond. Driven by her passion, my assistant "Mr. Blackwood, Olivia texted just for you. She thinks that is crucial.
Marcus turned to look at me uncomfortably. "Get right on responding to the call," he said. I have to wait.
I picked the intercom gently. Yes, what is the matter?
Olivia's voice came out, sharp and slanted with both panic and contempt. Ethan, you do simple house visits. You should find anything here. It has a bearing on the doctor. I spot a mistake here.
My heart was hammering. What might have happened just now? My head went back to Marcus's offer. Could this be the pivotal point whereby the unusual reaction evolved from a potential to a need?
Having hung the intercom, I said, "I'll be right there." Then, looking now at Marcus, I aimed for a cool headiness. "I have to get away". Here there is pretty immediate demand.
Marcus stood with an unusual attitude. I see it. We should discuss later on more precisely about this. There is a lot to consider.
Walking to the door, the argument was clear-cut. My thoughts whirled through uncertainty, hope, and fear. Olivia had found what? And might Marcus's offer be the one I so dearly needed?
My head swirling with decisions and questions, I ascended the lift. Every second caught in time as I stood looking ahead.