A C T O R S || OS 02

104. Chris Evans | For Better of For Worse

By : your-highnessmarvel

Requested by Anonymous: Now we ALL know Chris wants kids. If you don't know that you're not a real fan. But what about a fic where the reader can't have kids and she wants to break up with Chris because she thinks that's what's best for him?

Warnings: angst, language

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You reread the text message again.

Hey baby. Sorry for not being able to make it today with you. I am hopeful! Let me know as soon as you get out! <3

Your left knee bounced. Your stomach twisted. The TV in the left corner of the room buzzed some news about COVID-19, but you couldn't care less. A stranger next to you shuffled his feet and it was so loud. It resonated in your skull, climbing down your spine.

"Y/N?"

Your head snapped up. The doctor stood with a smile on her face, dossier in hand, door open behind her.

"Yes," you said.

"Come with me."

You followed her through the door, the back of her white lab coat stark. It felt like you were following her to your doom; to the pits of hell and beyond. Your heart raced as you passed through the familiar doors and sat on the same leather chair as before.

But last time you were with Chris. Last time, he was here, holding your hand, as nervous as you were.

"Okay, Y/N, how are we doing today?" the doctor asked, sitting directly in front of you. You had a queasy feeling, watching her sparkling white smile and her vivid eyes.

Did she have good news?

"Nervous," you admitted. Your mouth was dry. You just wanted to know the results.

The doctor's face went soft and she opened the dossier, revealing a small stack of papers; all the tests you'd done with her.

"It is as we feared, Y/N," she said, hands on the table. "All the tests show that your eggs are barren. I am very sorry. I know how much having a child of your own means to you and your husband, and I know this must be terrible news. There are, however, alternatives, like adoption."

There was a burning so intense in your chest that you feared you'd pass out. It was like someone lit a fire between your ribs and was cooking you from the inside out. Involuntary tears spilled from the edges of your eyes, gliding down your cheeks, clinging to your jaw as desperately as you'd clung to the hope of baring Chris's children.

Your hands balled into fists. Eyes closed. Breathing slowed. You could hear the doctor speaking, but it was as if through water. She was saying something about this process of multiple tests, all of them negative, proving that you really wanted to be a mother and that would be a plus on the adoption forms and you'd be considered a good candidate.

You didn't want to adopt! You wanted to conceive a child, half of you and half of Chris. To have a piece that was the both of you, together. To see if your child would have Chris's smile or your hair or his little dimples. You wanted to see which part of your character they'd inherit. Or maybe they'd be more like Chris.

"I..." You looked up through tear filled eyes, but only say the shape of the doctor who'd just told you you'd never have children of your own. "I'm going to go."

"Would you like me to call your husband?" she asked, seeing your state.

"No."

The last thing you needed was to tell Chris right now. He'd been so hopeful that this final test, this final and last try would be a miracle. Even if it was just one child, one would be enough, one would be your saving grace.