Chapter 1

At seven months pregnant, my water broke. I asked to my boyfriend Erick Fraser to take me to the hospital immediately.

He shook me off impatiently.

"Stop pretending," he snapped. "Why now? Why not earlier or later? Of all times, it had to be during Penelope's birthday?"

His intern assistant, Penelope Tanner, looked pitiful as she said, "It's all my fault for being young and not knowing how to avoid suspicion with Erick."

She made a show of getting up to leave. "Stephanie, if you don't want to see me, I'll take a taxi back to school right now."

Before she could step away, Erick's friends hurried to coax her back to her seat.

Tears stung my eyes as I asked Erick, "If something happens to the baby, won't you regret it?"

Before he could reply, Penelope burst into tears. "Erick, just give in to Stephanie. She wouldn't... she wouldn't be planning to abort, would she?"

Erick let out a mocking laugh. "Stephanie went through more than ten rounds of IVF to get pregnant. She wouldn't dare abort the baby."

He shoved me out of the house and told me to walk ten kilometers to the bakery to buy Penelope some mung bean pastries.

Instead, I turned and went to the hospital.

"Doctor," I said firmly, "I want an induction."

When I mentioned wanting an induction, the doctor looked at me in disbelief.

"Although it's challenging to keep the baby in your current condition, we've had successful cases before. Are you sure you don't want to try?"

I forced a weak smile.

"Survival of the fittest. Induction is the best choice."

The doctor sighed.

"Then get admitted today. Call your husband in to sign the consent form."

"…We're not officially married. Can I sign it myself?"

Just then, a ringtone echoed through the room.

The screen of my phone lit up, displaying the word "Husband."

The doctor shot me a disapproving glance.

"Couples can argue all they want, but he must be here for something this serious."

Reluctantly, I answered the call, accidentally hitting the speaker button.

Erick's furious voice boomed through the emergency room.

"Stephanie, where the hell are you? How can buying something take so long? Are you pregnant, or are you crippled?"

"Watch your tone. I'm at the hospital—"

"Enough! Cut the drama, will you? Everyone can see through your act. You're just jealous of how I treat Penelope and want attention!"

"And if you haven't bought the pastries yet, don't bother. Penelope doesn't want them anymore. Go to the flower shop and get a bouquet of lilies instead. She wants a petal bath!"

My hand trembled as I held the phone.

The memory of my pollen allergy from two weeks ago came flooding back.

That day, Erick had thrown a Christmas party for Penelope.

Knowing I studied vocal music, Penelope had begged Erick to ask me to sing at the party.

I reluctantly went to the karaoke bar, only to discover the room was filled with her favorite lilies.

I coughed violently, struggling to breathe.

Panicking, Penelope hid behind Erick, looking helpless.

He reassured her, "Don't worry. She's faking it. No one's that fragile."

He forced me to finish singing before I could leave.

It wasn't until my eyes were bloodshot and I collapsed on the floor that he realized something was wrong.

The next day, he felt a bit guilty and cooked me a meal for the first time in ages.

His rare tenderness softened my heart.

What I didn't know was that because my fainting ruined Penelope's mood at the party, Erick compensated her with a new Hermès handbag.

On the other end of the line, Erick continued to bark demands, asking how long it would take me to get the flowers.

The doctor, growing impatient, raised his voice into the phone.

"Are you Stephanie's husband?"

"Stephanie's water has broken prematurely, and she has a uterine infection. She's preparing for an induction at our hospital. We need you here to sign the consent form!"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

I thought Erick would be shocked or angry.

Instead, he let out a chuckle.

"How much did Stephanie pay you?"

Chapter 2

The doctor frowned.

"I'm the head OB-GYN of this hospital. I'm very serious when I say this: the fetus is in poor condition, the mother is running a high fever, and she has no intention of continuing the pregnancy—"

"Enough with the nonsense," Erick interrupted.

"What kind of head doctor are you? You can't even make up a convincing lie! A friend of mine studies nursing, and she told me seven months is the safest time for pregnancy. High fever? Infection? Save that for someone gullible."

"Tell Stephanie to stop using this induction nonsense to threaten me. If she really dares to go through with it, I'll write my name backward!"

The line went dead.

I let out a bitter laugh.

He'd rather trust Penelope, who has only studied nursing for two years, than a licensed OB-GYN.

The induction procedure was far more drawn out than I had imagined.

I watched helplessly as the baby was removed from my womb and placed into a bag.

Taking the pen handed to me by the doctor, I signed the consent form for cremation.

Back in the hospital room, I was utterly drained, both physically and emotionally. I fell into a deep sleep.

Only in sleep could I escape the sound of newborns crying in the neighboring room, a sound that shattered my heart.

Erick's call woke me up.

I didn't answer.

He sent a message on WhatsApp, "Where are you? Still not home?"

"Okay, maybe I was a bit harsh yesterday, but think about it. I was throwing a birthday party for Penelope, and there you were, feeling unwell and rushing off to the hospital. How could I not be upset?"

I didn't bother responding. Instead, I took a photo of the medical records and hospital receipts by my bedside and sent them to him.

He replied instantly:

"Was this really necessary? You had to go so far as to fake a hospital stay and medical documents just to prove a point?"

"Let me say this again: I only see Penelope as a sister. She's eight years younger than me—a kid, really. Stop twisting things to make her look bad!"

"Fine, I admit I lost my temper yesterday. I'll make it up to you when I'm back from this trip. Just stay home and take care of yourself, alright?"

I didn't reply.

Instead, I opened Penelope's social media page and saw her latest update: a photo of her and Erick at a scenic spot.

So this was Erick's "business trip."

Clicking on the image, I saw Penelope, dressed adorably, pouting as she kissed a stuffed rabbit.

My chest tightened.

That was the toy I'd bought for the baby. It used to sit in the nursery at home.

Even though the baby no longer needed it, seeing Erick casually give away something meant for our child filled me with anger.

I called him.

It took him a while to answer. "What's up, babe? I was just in a meeting."

Ignoring his lie, I asked directly, "Why did you give the baby's things to Penelope?"

He paused for a moment before replying impatiently.

"What's the big deal? It's just a toy. We can buy another one once the baby's born. Why are you making such a fuss?"

"Stephanie, can you stop being so petty? Penelope grew up poor and never had nice things. What's wrong with me giving her a stuffed animal?"

"I really don't understand how you've become like this—constantly unreasonable and jealous of a young girl!"

I clenched my phone tightly.

I'd heard these words so many times they no longer stung.

Half a year ago, Erick had "rescued" Penelope from a difficult situation at a bar where she'd been harassed by a customer. Ever since, he'd been completely devoted to her.

First, he took her in as his "sister." Then, he brought her into the company as his intern.

He claimed that a poor, naive girl like Penelope was too vulnerable in a big city and that it was his duty to protect her.

But my poor baby—our baby—never received even a shred of that care or protection from its father.

Half an hour later, Penelope posted another update.

"Another day of being spoiled by my big brother! Thank you for your blatant favoritism. It gives me the courage to show off unapologetically!"

The accompanying photo showed Erick renting out an entire amusement park for her, complete with 9,999 heart-shaped balloons released into the sky to celebrate her first birthday in Capital City.

Chapter 3

The comments section was filled with admiration. Many unsuspecting netizens genuinely thought they were siblings and left their remarks:

"This is treating a little sister like a daughter!"

"Blogger, does your brother need another sister?"

"I can't imagine how happy it would be to marry a man like this!"

Their naive comments made me want to laugh.

Just as I was about to close the comments, a freshly posted remark popped up:

"Erick Fraser! Do you even care about me and our baby? You've abandoned your pregnant wife for this nobody!"

It was written in my tone.

The post came from an account with no profile picture.

A sense of unease crept into my heart.

The next second, Penelope's call came through.

"Stephanie, I admit I used to work in a bar, but I swear to God, I was clean. I've never sold myself!"

Her sobs were heartbreaking, her tone filled with grievance.

In the background, Erick roared: "Stephanie, do you think everyone's as desperate as you?"

"Yes, Penelope worked at a bar, but that was to survive. She hasn't even been in a relationship. And you? You're just an unwed pregnant woman. What right do you have to look down on her?"

My head buzzed as if it were about to explode.

When a man stops loving you, your sacrifices and devotion become nothing but a joke.

My lips trembled.

"What did you just say?"

Erick sneered. "Don't tell me you forgot. We had a wedding, but we never registered our marriage. Technically, you don't have the right to call yourself my wife."

"Delete that defamatory comment immediately! If Penelope hadn't pleaded for you, I'd already have hired a lawyer to sue you for slander!"

I was stunned for a moment, then suddenly laughed.

"Go ahead, Erick. Sue me. I'll be waiting."

I ignored his repeated calls after that.

I knew he'd only demand that I apologize to Penelope.

I did owe an apology—

But not to Penelope.

I owed it to myself, to my parents, and to the baby I couldn't bring safely into this world.

When the doctor came to check on me, she seemed surprised to see me alone.

"Your husband still hasn't shown up?"

"Don't you have any other family? Postpartum recovery is not something you can neglect."

I forced a bitter smile.

Having promised Erick to wait until the baby was born to register our marriage, I had fallen out with my parents. How could I face them now?

All I wanted was to be discharged as soon as possible, pack my things and the baby's belongings while Erick was still out of town, and leave this place.

Unfortunately, my health was so poor that I had to stay in the hospital for two more days.

During those two days, Penelope frequently updated her social media.

She posted numerous photos of herself with Erick.

Listening to music together with shared headphones.

Barbecuing by the sea.

Erick teaching her to play pool, hand over hand.

Her sitting on his shoulders, watching the fireworks show at Disneyland.

I didn't feel sad or angry—just numb.

Finally, the day of discharge arrived.

I hurried home and went straight to the nursery.

To my surprise, the door was locked from the inside.

I could hear faint rustling noises coming from within.

Remembering the shoes I'd seen at the door—Penelope's—I felt myself unraveling. I banged on the door.

"Penelope! Who told you you could enter this room? Get out!"

The door opened, and Penelope stood before me, her expression hostile.

"What are you doing back here?"

I pushed past her and entered.

The once pristine nursery was now a chaotic mess.

Her lacy lingerie and silk nightgowns were scattered across the floor.

"Stephanie," she said coldly, "this is my room now. You have no right to invade my privacy. Please leave."

The sound of the front door opening came from the living room. Erick walked in, carrying snacks.

"Penelope, come drink your milk tea!"

When he reached the nursery door and saw me, he froze, guilt flashing across his eyes.

"Babe, don't misunderstand. Penelope had a fight with her dormmate, so I let her stay in the baby's room for a couple of days."

I was too disappointed to even argue.

"Do whatever you want. This room won't be for a baby anymore, anyway."

"What do you mean? What happened to the baby?"

His gaze fell on the loose down jacket I was wearing, trying to discern something.

He was about to place his hand on my stomach when Penelope suddenly let out a startled cry.

She shakily held up her phone.