I decided to see a doctor.
I didn’t tell Daniel.
Dr. Sarah Miller was a woman in her fifties with a calm voice and attentive eyes.
She listened to my complaints, examined my belly, and asked a few routine questions.
Then she asked:
“Does your husband know you’re here?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
I remained silent for a long moment.
Then I told her about the nighttime photographs, the measuring tape, and the strange whispers.
The doctor’s expression turned serious.
“Emily, I need to ask you something very important. Has your husband ever forced you to do something you didn’t want to do?”
I swallowed back my tears.
“Yes… for seventeen years.”
She pulled her chair closer.
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“Why haven’t you told anyone all these years?”
“Because I always thought it was normal.”
“What was normal?”
I stared at the floor.
