The divorce was supposed to be the hardest thing I would ever survive. Instead, the paperwork was almost painless. I understood the accounts better than Rowan did, took what the settlement gave me, and accepted a place in a master’s program in Edinburgh. Eleven weeks after the divorce, I was on a plane with two suitcases and the feeling that my life had finally begun again.
What I could not leave behind were the remedies Coralie had insisted I take throughout my marriage. Hormones, vitamins, powders, capsules—every morning and every evening, she appeared with something new, always promising that this would finally help me conceive. I had kept a few samples without telling anyone. In Edinburgh, I sent them to a laboratory. The results arrived three weeks later, and one sentence made my hands go cold: two of the “fertility supplements” contained drugs that had nothing to do with fertility.
Click continue reading below for Part2
