Peter sighed. “A giant baby? She makes things up to control me! Even her pregnancy is just a ploy.”
My spirit convulsed, the revelation of his words more painful than the birth I had endured. I had sacrificed everything, bearing a child against my own values and resigning my career to care for our child, coaxed into it by my mother-in-law’s insistence.
But it was Peter’s choice to force me to endure the daily burden of greasy meals, growing our child to a size that had now rendered me helpless. When I had begged for water to soothe my cracked lips, Millie had burned herself in her kindness. And for this, Peter had twisted the situation, stripping me of my right to a cesarean section and sentencing me to natural birth instead.
When the neighboring doctor had walked by and offered to help, Peter’s fury had grown. “Gia, I told you to stop! As a doctor, I refuse to operate. As a husband, I refuse to sign. If you had energy to scream, you’d be done by now!”
Blocking my path to the operating room, he tore up the consent form. His voice rang out for everyone nearby. “No wasting resources! No surgery! No pain relief! Only natural birth!”
The blood now poured from my body in an unstoppable flow, like a river spreading through the delivery room, painting the floor in my last testament. My hand instinctively touched my swollen belly in a final farewell and I closed my eyes as the darkness claimed me.
"I still think Gia wouldn't joke about the child…"
On the other side of the door, Millie’s sweet voice interrupted Peter’s tirade, her words dripping with mock humility and innocence.
Peter responded with disdain, his voice laced with bitter sarcasm. "Oh, don't I know Gia? She’s done countless things to manipulate and deceive and yet, my little baby, you’re the only one who can’t see it."
Relieved to have met Peter’s expectations, Millie allowed a sly, satisfied smile to creep across her face as she threw herself contentedly into his embrace, secure in his approval.
Peter's words made my heart surge with both anger and bitter curiosity.
I pricked up my ears to continue listening, when, suddenly, a frantic knock rattled the door of the duty room. The male nurse burst in, his face pale with worry.
“Doctor Peter, there’s a pregnant woman with a uterine hemorrhage who needs immediate help!”
For a fleeting moment, a rush of hope swept through me.
Could it be me? Could I still be saved?