“I’ve explained this to you a thousand times—Beverly has cancer and only a year left. Her biggest wish is to leave her family with a child. She saved my life once, and now I have to help her fulfill this wish!” 

I’d heard this script from Dominic Pearson countless times over the past two weeks.

When he first proposed the idea, I’d shut it down immediately.

But he wouldn’t drop it, nagging me daily. His tone had shifted too—from tentative pleading to righteous anger, as if I were the villain for refusing.

Since when did repaying a life debt require fathering a child?

Consistent arguments had drained me. I no longer had the energy to reason with him. Instead, I stared at the man I’d loved for five years and asked, voice trembling, “Dominic, our wedding is in two weeks. Now you want to have a baby with another woman? What am I to you?”

For the first time, Dominic seemed to notice the storm cloud of despair hanging over me. His tone softened slightly.

“Jane, I know this is hard… but I’m the only one who can help Beverly. I can’t let her die with this regret.

“It’s just IVF—nothing will happen between us.

“If you love me, you’ll understand.”

My heart plummeted. It was clear he’d already made up his mind. My feelings were irrelevant.

Dominic opened his mouth to continue, but a phone ring cut him off. He glanced at the screen and stepped onto the balcony.

Watching his retreating figure, I smiled bitterly.

Dominic and I had grown up together—same classes since elementary school, same college. I’d loved him silently for years, but he’d never noticed… until graduation, when he finally acknowledged my devotion and agreed to date.

You’d think after 20 years, we’d trust each other completely. Yet in five years as a couple, I’d never once touched his phone. He took every call in secret.