The obligatory "I-don't-own-any-of-the-characters" line: Of course Superman doesn't belong to me.

The obligatory "Please-review-on-my-story" line: They are nice after all.

3-2-07

I never thought that I would fall for the small-town, cow-milking, John-Deere-driving, plaid-wearing, up-at-the-crack-of-dawn farm boy. Coming from the big city, I always pictured myself marrying a big-time executive at a Fortune 500 company, settling down in a penthouse in Metropolis, and raising a child or two, juggling my law career, my husband's career, and our family life.

And everything was going to plan. I was seriously involved with the son of a man my father knew, and we were already looking at rings. Tom was a decent man, hard-working and considerate, and he had never been less than wonderful to me. He also shared my deep desire to have children. But I always felt as if our relationship was a sort of a modern-day arranged marriage, a business merger between Clark and Associates, my father's law firm, and Wells Enterprises, his father's corporation. I could deal with that, though, because what else did I have?

Everything came crashing down, though, when I went to have a check-up, since I hadn't had a period in three months, and the doctor had horrible news for me.

"Miss Clark?" my gynecologist said, stepping into the examination room, closing the door behind her, and clutching the clipboard to her chest.

I looked up from my magazine. "Yes?"

"Miss Clark, I'm afraid I have some bad news." She flipped through the pages on the clipboard as if reviewing the information she had to tell me. But I could tell that she was just stalling for time.

"Am I sick?" I asked automatically, urging her to continue.

"No, not sick," she said carefully.

"Then what's wrong with me?" I asked, growing impatient and worried.

She paused before she decided to just come out with it. "We discovered scarring in your uterus, possibly because your body tried to fight off an imaginary threat, an occurrence that can sometimes happen when the thyroid produces an irregular amount of prolactin."

I looked at her, not quite grasping what she was trying to say to me. "In English, please?"

"In short," she said, "the scarring has brought on an acute case of amenorrhea, the cessation of your menstrual cycle. You will never be able to have children. I'm…sorry."

As I sat on the table in shock, she bowed out of the room and shut the door, leaving me to react alone. I didn't cry, not then. I merely felt like I had been slapped in the face or socked in the stomach. It didn't hurt yet, but I knew it would really soon. I was able to hold off the tears until I crawled into bed that night, and then I sobbed until my pillow was soaked.

When I told Tom about it, his usually calm face betrayed his disappointment. I asked if this changed how he viewed our relationship, and he hesitated too long for me to believe him when he said that it didn't.

Sure enough, he called off the engagement that next week. While I wasn't surprised, I was hurt that he never gave me a satisfactory reason, nothing other than a simple, "I just don't think it's working out between us."

Translation: "You can never give me any children, so I can't marry you."

After the initial heartache, I gradually let go of Tom and moved on, enveloping myself in my studies at Metropolis University, where I was studying law. My father had always wanted me to follow in his footsteps as a high profile attorney. I had the brains, the motivation, and the resources, so that's what I was aiming for. I worked as a paralegal part-time and was excelling in my classes.

Little did I know that when I decided to take Finance fall of my sophomore year that my life would change forever.

AN: Rocky start, I know, but it gets better, I hope. Review and let me know how I can make this better! Thanks!!