My Bullshit

Dominic’s Pov

I was seated at my desk, my eyes glued to the spreadsheets on my screen. The numbers swam before me as I tried to focus. Work was the only thing that kept my mind busy, away from memories I’d rather forget.

A knock on the door broke my concentration. My personal assistant, Clara, stepped in with her usual efficient demeanor.

“Mr. Dominic, you have an appointment with Dr. Fletcher in thirty minutes,” she reminded me, her tone gentle but firm.

The appointment had completely slipped my mind amidst the chaos of work. With a nod, I saved the document on my screen and began shutting down my system. “Thanks, Claire. I’ll head out now.”

She gave a small smile and left the office as I gathered my things. It had become routine for me to visit the hospital for check-ups.

After the accident that claimed my parents’ lives when I was fifteen, the hospital had become almost like a second home.

The physical scars healed over time, but the internal ones? Not so much. The worst of it was the injury to my private part.

Dr. Fletcher had delivered the devastating news years ago: my chances of fathering a child were slim to none.

Since then, I’d buried myself in work, steering clear of anything remotely resembling a romantic relationship. What was the point?

Recently, I’d been feeling better, and the pain had lessened. Yesterday, they’d collected my sperm sample for testing, and I was here to pick up the results.

The drive to the hospital was uneventful, the hum of the car engine the only sound as I navigated the familiar streets.

By the time I arrived, my mind was already on autopilot. Parking my car, I made my way to the building.

Inside, the scent of disinfectant greeted me. I checked in at the reception and began walking towards Dr. Fletcher’s office.

As I turned, a woman suddenly rounded the corner and collided into me. I staggered slightly, catching her by the shoulders to steady her.

She looked up, and my breath caught. Her face was older, more mature, but unmistakably hers.

Memories of high school flooded back, the girl who had noticed me when no one else did, who bullied me mercilessly, and yet, who I couldn’t stop liking.

“Elara,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

Her eyes widened in recognition, but she quickly masked her expression. "Sorry," she mumbled, her voice barely audible, before brushing past me in a rush.

I remembered her sharp wit, her piercing eyes, and the way she always seemed to have a retort ready. I’d secretly liked her, even though she’d made it clear she didn’t think much of me.

I stood frozen, my heart pounding. What was she doing here? Why now? My thoughts swirled, but I forced myself to focus. There was no point running after her. Not yet.

Dr. Fletcher greeted me warmly as I entered his office. “Ah, Dominic, good to see you. Come in and please take a seat.”

I did as he asked, but the unease from my encounter with Elara lingered.

“Doctor,” I nodded, taking a seat. “How’s everything looking?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. That was never a good sign. “Well, about that,” he began, his voice hesitant. “There’s been a… mix-up.”

My brows furrowed. “Mix-up?”

“Your sample from yesterday…” He cleared his throat. “It’s gone missing. We can’t locate it.”

For a moment, I thought I’d misheard. "Missing? How does that even happen?”

I blinked at him, unsure if I’d heard correctly. “You lost my sperm sample?”

He winced at my bluntness but nodded. “I’m afraid so. I wanted to inform you over the phone, but I thought it best to discuss it in person. We’ll need you to provide another sample so we can proceed with the tests.”

I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair. This was absurd. But before I could say anything, there was a sharp knock on the door, and a nurse hurried in, looking flustered.

“Dr. Fletcher, there’s an emergency,” she said, casting a nervous glance my way.

“Excuse me for a moment,” he said, standing up and following the nurse out.

Left alone, I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. My thoughts drifted back to Elara. What was she doing here? Did she live in the city now? Questions swirled in my mind, each one more distracting than the last.

A buzz from my phone pulled me from my thoughts. It was a text from Claire.

“Sir, you need to hurry back to the office. There’s an issue.”

I didn’t waste any time. By the time I returned to the office, Claire was waiting for me, looking uncharacteristically frazzled.

“What’s going on?” I asked as I strode past her into my office.

“It’s the Baxter deal,” she explained, following me. “They’re threatening to pull out. Something about undisclosed liabilities.”

“Get me Mr. Baxter on the line,” I instructed, already powering up my system. As I worked, the memory of Elara lingered in the back of my mind. I couldn’t shake the feeling that our paths crossing wasn’t a coincidence.

The call with Mr. Baxter was tense but productive. By the time we hung up, the deal was back on track, but the mental toll was evident. I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes for a moment. The image of Elara flashed in my mind again.

Who was she now? And why did seeing her stir something I thought I’d buried long ago?

---

Months later, as I sat in my apartment nursing a glass of whiskey, I couldn’t help but replay that day’s events. The running into each other at the hospital, the sight of Elara, and the unresolved questions that gnawed at me.

Picking up my phone, I did something I hadn’t done in years. I searched her name. The results were sparse, but one headline caught my eye:

Elara Stone: From Tragedy to Turmoil.

My heart sank as I read the accompanying article. It detailed the recent death of her parents, followed by the death of her husband and the subsequent investigation that had led to her arrest. Accused of murder, it seemed her life was unraveling in ways I couldn’t fathom.

As I stared at the screen, a mix of emotions moved through me. Anger, disbelief, and something else, a deep, inexplicable urge to help her. But why? She’d never been kind to me.

If anything, she’d made my teenage years a living hell. And yet, the thought of her facing this alone didn’t sit right with me.

Setting the glass down, I made a decision. I didn’t know what I could do, but I wasn’t going to sit idly by. Not this time.