Chapter 1

I, Summer Hayes, had been married for two years. My husband and I had a baby boy named Ethan Carter. We lived in a remote country town where supplies were scarce. If I wanted to buy anything decent for Ethan, I had to take a long bus ride to the nearest city. Ever since Ethan was born, money had been tight. My husband, David Carter, sat down with his parents and made the difficult decision. Before long, he packed his bag and left for the city to find work. He said he'd do whatever it took to give us a better life. And just like that, he'd been gone for over two months. I stayed behind in our old farmhouse, taking care of Ethan. My in-laws helped out occasionally, but my health was getting worse by the day from overwork. My chest was swollen and tender, like there was a hard lump inside. Even the slightest touch sent cold sweat down my back. I could nurse Ethan, but there wasn't enough milk. Seeing him cry, everyone in the house was frantic with worry. My mother-in-law took my elderly father-in-law up the mountain to catch a wild chicken, hoping a hearty meal would help my milk come in. I thought it would make things better. Instead, that night I tossed and turned in agony. Ethan wailed beside me, starving, and I couldn't produce a single drop. I couldn't just let him go without feeding. I paced the house until I couldn't take it anymore. I grabbed the phone and called Eleanor Grant, a doctor at the local clinic. She was nearly 70, well known in the area for both her skill and her kindness. When I explained my condition to her, she pondered for a moment before deciding to come in person to help. I thanked her, hugged my crying son close, and waited. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours, and anxiety gnawed at me. She was an old woman, walking alone through the dark on those rough back roads. The thought of something happening to her wouldn't leave my mind. Just as I was about to step outside with Ethan to check, the door suddenly flew open. A beam of light slammed into my face. I gasped, staggered back, and lost my footing, hitting the floor hard. My tank top slipped, the neckline tugged too low, and cold air rushed over my skin. When I finally looked toward the doorway, I nearly screamed. "Why is it a man?" I blurted, yanking my shirt up and curling around Ethan. Tears stung my eyes. "Where's Dr. Grant?" The man squeezed his eyes shut and waved his hands. "Please don't be scared. I'm her grandson. I graduated from medical school in the city. My grandma's legs aren't good anymore, so she asked me to come instead." Hearing that, I relaxed slightly. But these were private matters. How could I let a man examine me? What would people say if word got out? He seemed to read my thoughts, and his expression turned serious. "To a doctor, gender doesn't matter. I'm just here to help relieve your blocked milk ducts. Otherwise, you won't be able to nurse your son." I looked down at Ethan. He barely had the strength to cry anymore. My lips pressed together. After a moment of hesitation, I finally nodded and led him inside. Under the lamp, I got my first clear look at him. He was tall and slender, with gentle features. Glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, making him look scholarly. Following his instructions, I lay Ethan down on the bed. Then, he slowly reached out and lifted my tank top to reveal my swollen, tender breast.