My Husband Sold Me to the Massage Clinic

I was lying on the exam table in that private clinic, my whole body trembling just thinking about what was about to happen.

Dr. Roscente moved closer, getting ready to start the physical exam…

My name is Yolanda Valentine. Ever since I had the baby, my husband Hugo's go-to line became, "I'm exhausted. Not tonight, honey."

I learned to keep my mouth shut and bury my own needs.

All that holding back took a real toll on me.

I started getting this heavy feeling in my chest—sometimes a sharp, stabbing pain. The only thing that helped was pressing on the sore spot myself, giving a little relief.

"Sweetheart, you don't think it could be fibroadenoma, do you? Maybe I should take you to get checked out tomorrow?"

Hugo noticed something was off before I even said a word. I was touched. I nodded and agreed to go with him.

The next morning, he drove me to a clinic.

It didn't look much like a real hospital—more like some private practice. Cramped, dated equipment.

Before we even walked in, I could hear soft moaning coming from inside.

My face went hot. I tugged on Hugo's sleeve. "Honey… are you sure this place is okay?"

He brushed it off. "This doctor specializes in fibroadenoma. They say his massage technique is one of a kind."

He took my arm firmly and led me inside.

A woman was just getting dressed when we walked in.

Her cheeks were flushed, her blouse was crooked, and I could see red marks peeking out from above her chest. She didn't look like someone who'd just had a medical massage. She looked… thoroughly satisfied.

"Dr. Roscente, your hands are magic. The pain's almost gone. I'll definitely be back."

So she was the one we'd heard moaning. Seeing how radiant she looked, I felt a pang of envy—and frustration.

It had been so long since I'd felt that kind of release. A deep, hungry ache stirred inside me.

Hugo guided me into the consultation room. Dr. Roscente was flipping through a file. "Yolanda, is it? What brings you in today?"

I sat across from him. "Chest tightness. Sometimes sharp pains."

He nodded, scanning the notes—Hugo must have filled him in already.

After a pause, he said, "No official diagnosis yet? Would you mind lifting your shirt? I need to check for lumps."

I hesitated, glancing at Hugo. When he didn't react, I quickly pulled up my blouse and bra.