The waiting room felt suffocating. I sat clutching Mr. Hops against my chest, his worn fur damp from my nervous fingers. My body had changed so much over these weeks of treatment—my breasts heavy and constantly aching, my belly still holding that rounded fullness from last session. Everything felt different now. More sensitive. More aware.
The nurse appeared at the door, her expression unreadable. "Clara? Dr. Marcus is ready for you."












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