While Moira was rushing all over the place to get ready in time, Harraël had barely gathered up the courage to drag himself out of bed. Guilt swarmed within him, and it only got worse and worse. At one point, he was pretty sure she’d kill him when she found out.

Her excitement was clear as day, but the nerves were obviously taking their toll on her too. Words spilling from her mouth, talking the ears off of his head. And all he could do was nod, smile half-heartedly and reply with simple yes’ and no’s. Harry had been awfully quiet all morning and for once, she did not notice.

When they were both dressed suitably and ready to go, they said their goodbyes to Emelia, who would be babysitting Ollie in their absence, and were off to Dr Patel’s office.

As they entered –20 minutes later– the expression gracing the doctor’s face told him that she was equally as jittery as he was, sending him meaningful looks as the two took their seats. They exchanged the usual, polite pleasantries as Dr. Patel poured them two glasses of water and then retreated into her own chair.

Folding her hands together and clearing her throat, she faced Moira.

“Before I introduce you to your donor, I’d like to provide you with some background information first.”

“That’s fine.” She said, grabbing Harry’s hand –presumably in anticipation. Glancing down at their linked hands, he squeezed hers in reassurance. The guilt in his heart now on the edge of consuming him.

“The majority of all sperm donors become donors for the money. Nearly six years ago, however, we had someone with a whole other purpose step inside our practice..” Dr Patel began.

Harry nodded, pleased that the doctor was telling the ‘background information’ they’d agreed on. To prepare Moira and possibly soften the hit she was about to receive from the harsh truth. He raised an eyebrow, evoking her to continue.

“His biggest wish was to become a father. And thus, he asked us to find a recipient who would be prepared to meet up with him and perhaps even agree on joint custody.”

Moira abruptly rose from her chair. “Hold on, you’ve never mentioned anything about joint custody.” She snapped.

“That is not wha-“

“He might be my child’s biological father, but I’m not going to share custody with some stranger!”

Dr Patel’s mouth was agape, looking like a fish on land, gasping for air. Like always, Moira overreacted and automatically assumed something bad, when in reality, ‘joint custody’ was only a small part of the truth. And it wasn’t even the baddest part. Seeing the doctor’s crestfallen reaction, he was quick to take control of the situation.

Pulling at the hand he was still holding, he gave her a pleading look. “Don’t jump to conclusions, you haven’t heard all of it yet. Let her finish talking.”

Knowing he was right, she reluctantly settled back down and gestured for Dr Patel to carry on.

“Despite his genuine intentions, no one picked him. And I was forced to freeze in his donated vial. I saw him two to four times a year for check-ups, but nothing more. Unfortunately, about 16 months ago, half of his donated cells died because of a technical failure in the tube coolers -they'd been off for four days straight- so if we didn't find a recipient soon, the chance of fertilizing a female's egg with his semen would be close to non-existent."

Moira was listening intently as she explained this.

"A donor's semen is our responsibility, and if it becomes unavailable because of an easily avoidable error, we are forced to get a new sample. Which means either paying the donor big money or go to court if he refuses to do so. It's all in the contract a donor signs."

"We have to offer our recipients security. To make them trust us and have a safe pregnancy. We're able to take-in 200 donors a year, any more than that isn't financially possible, especially with all the daily costs and with the economy taking a bad turn. Everything's on a tight schedule. One misstep, and it could be our downfall. We could not afford to lose his donation, so we had to find a recipient. And soon.”

“Let me get this straight,” Moira leaned back at stared at Dr Patel with a gaze so piercing that it made her feel uncomfortable.. “You picked me, to save your own ass?”

Intense shame washed over the doctor, “Uhh, yeah."

“How?”

“What do you-“

“How in the hell did you ‘pick’ me? I chose my own donor from the catalogue-thing. Does that ring any bells?” Moira grew absolutely livid, her face was bright red, her lips turned downward into a deep, furious scowl. She couldn’t even register half of the things she’d just been told. All she was able to focus on was some weird ass stranger wanting joint custody and that Dr Patel and her colleagues had practically used her uterus to prevent their own demise.

“I gave you a folder that solely included males who didn’t suffice your personal preferences. Except for your donor, he met the majority of them. So you would unknowingly pick him; the one we’d had in mind for you all along.”

Moira pulled her hand from Harry’s and he instantly missed her warmth. She gulped down her glass of water and rubbed her temples to prevent a pounding headache from making an appearance. “God, this is so fúcked up.” She sighed. “I don’t know what to think.”

I know exactly how you feel’ Harry wanted to scream at her, as he observed the deep crease between her eyebrows and how her eyes that were running back and forth; an obvious sign of despair. Keeping himself from wrapping his arms around her to protect her from all the bad and negative, was much easier than usual. Because he knew that he would be the reason behind her pain within a few instances.

“I’m sorry, Miss King, if there had been any other way, we would’ve opted-“

Moira cut her off before she could continue, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Please spare me the bullshit.”

There was an awkward silence, the space around them ringing with tension, keeping them –but especially the doctor and Harry– on their toes. He didn’t know what to do. Her level of anger was rising, and the chance of a positive reaction getting smaller and smaller. If he didn’t tell her soon, he’d lose the courage and have to start all over again.

As if she’d read his mind. She spoke: “Now where’s that donor? Shouldn’t he be here by now?”

His heart stopped beating. This was it.

With Moira’s question resounding through the air, Dr Patel turned his way faster than one could say ‘help’. Their perfectly concocted plan was collapsing, and appeared to be not as perfect as expected. They had underestimated her.

“He’s not coming.” Dr Patel muttered, defeated.

The expression on his lover's face morphed into one of confusion. “What do you mean? Did he cancel?”

Swallowing the upcoming lump in his throat, Harry forced himself to speak. “He’s already here.”

It took her a few moments to realize what he had said. But when she did, it felt like a bucket of ice water had been thrown all over her. Her whole body tensed as the words swirled in her mind like a verse of a poem. Repeating over and over, like she didn’t fully comprehend the words.

“Moira?” His deep voice did nothing to penetrate her thoughts.

Nothing could have prepared her. And all that she could seem to process was that he had lied to her. He’d known the truth and had chosen to refrain from telling her. He’d abused her trust and knowingly kept something from her, not just something: He was her son’s father.

The honesty behind his confession was was written all over his face. And she did not doubt him for a second. This was real.

The sadness vanished and cold fury was building up inside of her. She felt almost violent, like she was only seeing red. She could never remember feeling this hurt and betrayed mixed into one.

Cooper nor Derek had ever made her feel this betrayed.

Her hands were trembling as she silently rose from her chair, grabbed her purse and coat and turned around, intending on leaving and going to the bathroom to calm down, or to leave the hospital altogether.

All she wanted to do was go somewhere - somewhere where nobody would find her. She wanted to go home, crawl in bed and cry and cry and cry until she was completely empty.

Moira was nearing the door, but her wrist was seized, a tug making her turn around to face the familiar pair of green eyes –that she now noticed were near replicas of Ollie’s; how could she have been so oblivious? However, this time, seeing them made her insides twist in pain and anguish instead of love.

“Moira, wait.” Harry whispered. “Let me explain.”

“Don’t touch me,” was all she uttered; it came out in a low breath, barely audible. But Harry heard her, and despite his betrayal, she felt so sick when she saw how his lower lip trembled. His eyes screamed regret and pain as she flinched away from his touch.

Without another word to either of them, Moira threw open the door and her legs started moving. She tore through the hospital, though she didn’t go back to the car. She hailed a cab and drove home with tears blurring her vision. Not knowing when she ever going to feel okay again.

And while Harry motionlessly sat staring at the place she’d disappeared, he had to muster all the mental strength he possessed to let her walk away.