Chapter 1

Dr. Reed didn’t even hesitate. He stripped off his gloves, used his palms to spread my knees wide, and slowly began to probe inside with his fingers.

The moment he touched my inner thigh, a jolt shot through me. My body started to heave irregularly with every breath. He loomed over me, his expression clinical and detached, but his hands were moving faster and faster. My eyes glazed over, and I bit down hard on my lip to keep from making any shameful sounds…

1.

My name is Maya, I’m thirty, and I’m a new mom.

When my husband got home today, I was still busy in the kitchen, but two large hands wrapped around my waist from behind.

He kissed me hungrily, his lips tugging at my earlobe.

“Honey, it’s been so long. I can’t take it anymore.”

He scooped me up and carried me straight to the bed in our bedroom.

“Let’s make this quick while the baby is still napping.”

It was true; we hadn’t been intimate since I got pregnant.

He clung to me, his hands roaming all over me, his movements urgent and rough.

Since the birth, my breasts had been constantly swollen and tender from breastfeeding. Sometimes the pain from blocked ducts would even wake me up in the middle of the night.

My husband buried his face in my chest and latched on like a nursing infant, sucking away with intense focus. The tightness eased, and a shockwave of pleasure pulsed through me, making me let out a soft, feminine moan.

The emptiness I’d felt for so long was overwhelming. It had been nearly two months, and I was completely lost to the sensation.

I wrapped my arms around him and kissed his sensitive earlobe.

“Honey…”

My whimper made him shudder, his ears turning bright red.

He didn’t even bother to take off all our clothes before pressing me into the mattress.

I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist, craving him.

My shirt was ripped open without a care.

My mind was spinning in a haze of desire, right on the edge of the finish line.

But after just three or four minutes, my husband… lost interest.

He started making excuses, claiming he was tired, stressed, or just off his game.

But I could clearly feel the disappointment radiating off him.

Was he disappointed in me?

A wave of resentment washed over me.

Later on, I tried to initiate things more than once, but he was never really into it. Whenever he caught a glimpse of the stretch marks on my stomach, he’d look away.

It was a look I couldn’t quite put into words.

Was it disgust?

Or fear?

He didn’t say anything out loud―in fact, he tried to comfort me―but his body and his eyes told me everything I needed to know.

Eventually, he moved into the guest room, claiming he didn’t want to wake the baby or me with his snoring.

I heard strange noises coming from that room several times. When I peeked in, I caught him watching adult films, using them to satisfy himself rather than touch me.

I felt so insulted.

I’d nearly died giving birth to our child, and now, he wasn’t interested in me anymore.

I started to panic.

Then, one day, he came home with a mysterious look on his face. I thought he’d gotten a promotion.

“Honey, I’ve got great news.”

He held my hands tightly, beaming at me.

“A colleague told me about this specialized postpartum doctor. His wife went there, and she looks like she’s twenty again. You should give it a try!”

I hesitated for a moment before agreeing.

His eyes were filled with an uncontrollable excitement.