Page 65 of Why We Break

“Do you remember where I went before I came to see you?”

I think back to that day, remembering she’d mentioned some sort of an appointment, but I don’t remember the specifics. “Didn’t you have a doctor’s appointment or something?”

She smiles sadly at me and nods. “Yeah, I went in for what was supposed to be a simple checkup and a prescription for birth control. But they found something when I was there, and not to mention the doctor was the biggest asshole I’ve ever met.”

“But you’re healthy. What did they find? This doesn’t make any sense to me, Han,” I tell her, brushing her hair out of her face.

“I look healthy,” she whispers. “But I went to that appointment that day, and the doctor told me that I have something called Polycystic Ovary Syndrome or PCOS. Which, honestly, probably would have been okay if he sat down and explained it to me. But he didn’t. Instead, he told me I was the worst case he’d ever seen. And then he told me I’d never be a momma, Will. He even laughed like the idea was so freaking ridiculous. I left and cried in my car because as soon as he told me that, I knew the future you had for us was broken. That I was broken.”

Her body is shaking with sobs as she chokes out her last few words, and I feel my heart break at the realization that she’s carried all this by herself the last few years.

“Come here, baby, it’s okay. You’re not broken. I can’t believe you never told me this. You didn’t need that asshole doctor anyway. You can get a second opinion, and—” I start, but she interrupts me.

“I did. I got a second opinion—and a third actually—when I went back to college. I did some research and I do have PCOS, but since the doctor didn’t explain anything, I didn’t realize how common PCOS was or any of the possible treatments that were out there. Eventually, I found a doctor I liked, and I realized I probably overreacted, but it was just too much at the time you know?”

I nod at her, and before I can say anything, she continues. “I took some time to myself, and I convinced myself that we needed to talk. That I needed to lay everything out for you and give you the chance to make a decision for yourself. Honestly, I was just starting to have hope again. But that’s not the end of the story.”

My heart sinks at the thought that there’s more she kept from me. “Go on,” I tell her, holding her closer to me and preparing for whatever’s next.

“Do you remember the surgery I had a couple years ago?” she says miserably.

“The appendectomy?” I ask, vaguely remembering Caroline telling me that she was in the hospital for a day or two a few years ago. It was a summer or two after I graduated, and since Hannah and I weren’t talking at that point, I didn’t get many details.

“Yeah, I guess you could call it that. But they didn’t just take my appendix. On top of the PCOS, I have something called endometriosis. Basically, these cells grow where they aren’t supposed to—usually on the ovaries. Anyway, they can’t identify it without surgery, so the doctor went in for the appendectomy and had no idea I had some rare case of endometriosis on my appendix. The bad tissue was everywhere. From what they told me, it was a mess. The endometriosis had fused several of my organs together, and it had basically killed my ovaries too. They had to perform an emergency hysterectomy when I was twenty-three,” she explains through her tears, and I fight to keep up with what she’s telling me. I feel like I’ve been punched in the damn chest just listening to her talk.

“Oh my God, Hannah. And no one else knows about this?” I ask, my brain still struggling to catch up.

“No. I was in Tuscaloosa for the week finishing up my Master’s finals, and Caroline was already done, so we weren’t together. I didn’t even list my gramps on my emergency contacts because I thought it would be a routine surgery and I didn’t want him to worry.”

“Hannah,” I whisper, pulling her to my chest. “Why in the world didn’t you tell me? Or hell, forget me—you didn’t tell Caroline? You’ve walked around shouldering this by yourself for years. Did you honestly think that none of us would want to be there for you?”

She doesn’t reply for a while, continuing to cry in my arms, before sobbing out, “I couldn’t do it, Will. I’m sorry. And plus, I overheard you telling Seth how much you couldn’t stand me, So I didn’t figure you wanted anything to do with me.”

“What? When?” I ask, the confusion clear in my voice as I try to remember what she’s talking about.

“At Maracas. I’d just gotten hired at the school, and I heard you telling him that I got on your nerves. You sounded like you hated me, so I just told myself I’d give you the same energy,” she says sadly.

I vaguely remember making an off-handed comment about not wanting her to work at the school, and I feel swarmed with regret. “Hannah, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. All I could think about was seeing you every day, and never being able to have you, and I just snapped. But I still shouldn’t have said it.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly open with you about any of this,” she says, nuzzling closer to me as she cries.

I hold her, and I realize I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. After a while she pulls back, wiping her tear-stained face, as she whispers, “Listen, Will, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said yes to starting anything with you again. I spent some time in therapy right after it happened, and I’ve done what I can to come to terms with all of this on my end. But I can’t force you to shoulder this too. I’m never gonna be able to give you the future we both wanted. And I can’t be the reason you look back in twenty years and wish everything was different. I’m broken, and there’s no fixing me.”

I kiss the top of her head and open my mouth to argue with her, but before I can get a word out, she holds up her hand. “Will, I’m serious. We can’t do this. Please just let me go,” she sobs, trying to pull out of my arms. Instead of letting her go, I pull her closer, refusing to let her walk away this time.

“Baby, you’re not going anywhere. Just stop so we can talk about this. And while we’re at it, let’s get one thing straight right now. You’re not broken. There’s a difference between breaking down and being broken. You’ve held it together for everyone in the damn world over the last few years, all the while you were letting this shit eat away at you from the inside out. But, Hannah, you don’t have to hold it together all the damn time. Breaking down and letting other people in doesn’t mean we’re weak; it means we’re human. Sometimes life is just too fucking much, and that’s okay. But pretending to not need anybody doesn’t get us anywhere,” I continue, holding her close to me and trying to force her to listen to me.

“Maybe you’re right,” she mutters, reaching up to dry her eyes again. “I should have told you sooner. And I should have given you a choice.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I understand why you didn’t. That was so much for you to take in, and I was so distracted with trying to hold my own family’s shit together, I didn’t fight for you the way I should have. I was so scared of admitting that I’d completely fallen for you, and I fucked it all up. But I love you, Hannah. And I’m not letting you go again.”

She freezes at my words, and I see the mix of panic and hope in her words at my confession.Fuck, that’s not how I planned to do this but whatever.

“Damn, that probably wasn't the right time for all that, but it’s true. I gave you my heart seven years ago, Hannah, and I don’t want it back. As much as I’ve tried to convince myself I didn’t need you, I was wrong. I loved you then, and I love you now.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I hold up my hand, stopping her. “You don’t have to say anything tonight. This has already been a whole lot, and I don’t want you to say something you regret later.”

She just nods, nuzzling closer to me in my arms, and I wipe one of the stray tears from her eyes. “Just let me hold you tonight, okay? We’ll figure all this shit out later, but right now I just need to know you want to be mine.”

“More than anything,” she whispers. “But I’m terrified of what that’ll look like, Will. What if you wake up tomorrow and decide this is all too much?”

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