My name is Naomi Whitmore.
For twelve years, I thought patience was one of my greatest strengths.
That afternoon, I learned patience can also become a weapon.
Adrian was still on the floor when I stepped outside.
I heard Evelyn ask what was wrong.
I heard Bianca tell him to stand up.
I did not turn around.
My suitcase rolled behind me across the stone path.
The driver I had booked that morning waited at the curb.
He opened the trunk without asking questions.
I placed the suitcase inside.
Then I got into the back seat.
Only after the car moved did my hands begin to shake.
I looked down at them.
They were steady enough to negotiate billion-dollar loans.
They were steady enough to sign acquisitions.
They were steady enough to fire executives twice my age.
But that day, they trembled because I had finally walked away from my marriage.
My phone rang before we reached the end of the street.
Adrian.
I let it ring.
Then Evelyn.
Then Adrian again.
I turned the phone face down.
The fertility report had done exactly what I expected.
Two years earlier, the specialist had found no problem with me.
Adrian was the one with the diagnosis.
Severe non-obstructive azoospermia.
The doctor had explained it carefully.
