My Husband Sold Me to His Stepdad’s Clinic - Chapter 7: Chapter 7
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The next morning, I practically dragged Daniel to the hospital with me. Call me paranoid, but having him there felt like a safety net—just in case anything went sideways.
Turns out, I was making a mountain out of a molehill. The doctors were all women—warm, professional, and totally put-together.
I casually asked about Vincent Lowell's availability, but they didn't bat an eye. No recognition, no awkward glances—just a polite, "Dr. Lowell's a specialist with a six-month waiting list for routine appointments."
"Six months?" My voice cracked. "What am I supposed to do until then?"
Panic flared in my chest. If this condition messed things up between Daniel and me, I'd never forgive myself.
The doctor quickly reassured me, "Ma'am, your procedure is straightforward. Any of our physicians can handle it—no hospital stay, no complications."
But her words did little to calm my nerves.
An ordinary doctor? After I'd been banking on a specialist?
Now I wished I'd just swallowed my pride and asked Vincent to pull some strings.
My distress must've been written all over my face because Daniel smirked, arching a brow. "Told you. Dad probably picked up on how awkward you were yesterday and decided to spare you."
Then, with that infuriatingly casual tone, he added, "Relax. Doctors see this stuff every day. You're the only one hung up on it."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Even if Vincent wasn't Daniel's real father, he was still family. The thought of him seeing me like that? Mortifying.
And as a woman, my mind couldn't help but spiral into those kinds of thoughts…
Daniel's scoff snapped me back to reality. "You're definitely overcomplicating this."
His dismissive look made me shrink. I had no comeback.
The doctor led us to the exam room, where I filled out paperwork and scheduled my first treatment.
At least she was a woman. That alone eased half my anxiety.
Over the next few days, I became a regular at the clinic. The treatments were smooth, painless—even pleasant. Hope started to bloom. Maybe I'd be fully healed by New Year's.
"Consistency is key," the doctor reminded me. "Skip sessions, and it might… complicate things later." She gave me a knowing look. "Especially the important parts of being a woman."
I flushed but nodded. She didn't have to spell it out.
Intimacy with Daniel had always been a mix of thrill and discomfort. I wanted that gone—no more hesitation, no more worry.
Each visit left me lighter, more optimistic. By the last session, I practically floated out of the clinic.
That evening, I wrapped my arms around Daniel, pressing close. "Best. Husband. Ever," I murmured against his lips. "Now kiss me."
Turns out, I was making a mountain out of a molehill. The doctors were all women—warm, professional, and totally put-together.
I casually asked about Vincent Lowell's availability, but they didn't bat an eye. No recognition, no awkward glances—just a polite, "Dr. Lowell's a specialist with a six-month waiting list for routine appointments."
"Six months?" My voice cracked. "What am I supposed to do until then?"
Panic flared in my chest. If this condition messed things up between Daniel and me, I'd never forgive myself.
The doctor quickly reassured me, "Ma'am, your procedure is straightforward. Any of our physicians can handle it—no hospital stay, no complications."
But her words did little to calm my nerves.
An ordinary doctor? After I'd been banking on a specialist?
Now I wished I'd just swallowed my pride and asked Vincent to pull some strings.
My distress must've been written all over my face because Daniel smirked, arching a brow. "Told you. Dad probably picked up on how awkward you were yesterday and decided to spare you."
Then, with that infuriatingly casual tone, he added, "Relax. Doctors see this stuff every day. You're the only one hung up on it."
Heat rushed to my cheeks. Even if Vincent wasn't Daniel's real father, he was still family. The thought of him seeing me like that? Mortifying.
And as a woman, my mind couldn't help but spiral into those kinds of thoughts…
Daniel's scoff snapped me back to reality. "You're definitely overcomplicating this."
His dismissive look made me shrink. I had no comeback.
The doctor led us to the exam room, where I filled out paperwork and scheduled my first treatment.
At least she was a woman. That alone eased half my anxiety.
Over the next few days, I became a regular at the clinic. The treatments were smooth, painless—even pleasant. Hope started to bloom. Maybe I'd be fully healed by New Year's.
"Consistency is key," the doctor reminded me. "Skip sessions, and it might… complicate things later." She gave me a knowing look. "Especially the important parts of being a woman."
I flushed but nodded. She didn't have to spell it out.
Intimacy with Daniel had always been a mix of thrill and discomfort. I wanted that gone—no more hesitation, no more worry.
Each visit left me lighter, more optimistic. By the last session, I practically floated out of the clinic.
That evening, I wrapped my arms around Daniel, pressing close. "Best. Husband. Ever," I murmured against his lips. "Now kiss me."
End of My Husband Sold Me to His Stepdad’s Clinic Chapter 7. Continue reading Chapter 8 or return to My Husband Sold Me to His Stepdad’s Clinic book page.