My Ex Is the Gynecologist

I haven't had my period in two months, and my mom assumes I must be pregnant. So, she marches me off to see a doctor.

Of all people, the doctor on duty turns out to be my ex—the one I dumped two months ago.

His face betrays nothing, his voice icy as he says, "Lie on the exam table. Lift your shirt and pull your pants down."

When I don't follow his instructions quickly enough, he impatiently pulls my pants down himself.

But once the curtain is drawn, he takes off his glasses and hovers over me. "We didn't even go all the way. So, why haven't you had your period in two months?"

I didn't expect to run into my ex when I was at my absolute lowest.

When I was in the lobby earlier, I saw my attending physician's name on the screen—Patrick Hayes. And for a moment, my mind completely shut down.

No way… This couldn't be happening.

Still, I tried to reassure myself. In a city this big, it wasn't unusual to run into a doctor with the same name.

But the moment we locked eyes in the exam room, my heart sank.

Neat and unassuming, Patrick wore a white coat that made patients trust him instantly. He was the head of OB-GYN at one of the city's top hospitals. So, who else could he be but my ex?

"Valerie Carter, right? What seems to be the problem?" he asked in a businesslike tone, his slender fingers curling around a pen.

Perfect. We had been broken up for barely two months, and he could already act like he didn't know me. He was truly ruthless.

Granted, what I had said when we broke up had been way crueler than anything he was doing now. My exact words had been, "Patrick Hayes, after today, the only way I'd even consider seeing you again is if you were lying in a hospital bed, begging me to."

Now, they had come back to haunt me. We were really meeting again in a hospital.

But this time, I was at his mercy. He was the doctor, and I was just a patient waiting for my fate to be decided.

Forget about gracing him with a visit. His schedule was completely booked, and I couldn't even snag a single slot myself.

Ultimately, my mom had to fork out double the usual price and go through all kinds of trouble just to get an appointment from a scalper.

Just moments ago, I overheard a group of young women leaving the clinic, whispering excitedly about how handsome the doctor was.

According to them, the social media hype wasn't an exaggeration. They didn't even need a prescription; just seeing him in person was enough. He was devastatingly handsome, the kind of face that made them feel like they could live decades longer just to admire it.

At the time, I was curious to see for myself. Was everyone named Patrick Hayes that good-looking?

Now