After my abortion, I was scrolling online when I came across a trending thread: [What is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever done?] The top-voted comment read: [Last week, I swapped the genetic screening report of my childhood best friend’s wife. She was carrying a perfectly healthy baby boy. I deliberately faked the report to tell her the baby had Down syndrome. She actually believed it. I personally performed the abortion, and while I was in there, I removed her uterus. She’ll never be able to get pregnant again. She stole the man who had revolved around me since we were kids. I swallowed that anger for three years, and now I’ve finally paid her back. It feels so damn good!] I instinctively touched my empty, aching stomach. A reply underneath asked: Does her husband know? [Of course he knows. We work at the same hospital; he was right next to me when I swapped the reports. He’s the one who convinced his wife to abort it, all because I told him I didn’t want him to have a child with her.] My hands violently trembled as I clicked on the user’s profile. It was Chloe Thorne’s burner account. It was filled with daily, intimate snippets of her and my husband, Ethan. The sheer, suffocating betrayal caused my blood pressure to spike. I suffered a massive hemorrhage right then and there. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the scheduled abortion. Chloe was prepping the surgical tray next to me, her voice sickeningly sweet: “Maya, you’re making the right choice. A baby with Down syndrome will only bring you and Ethan a lifetime of pain!” I propped myself up on my elbows and looked dead at her: “I changed my mind. I’m keeping him.” … The entire preoperative room went dead silent. The surgical forceps in Chloe’s hand clattered onto the metal tray. Even behind her surgical mask, I could see her smile freeze. Her eyes darted quickly to Ethan, then back to me. “Maya, you need to calm down.” She took a half-step forward, her voice soft and gentle, like she was coaxing an irrational child: “A baby with Down syndrome is a lifelong burden. You’re still early in the second trimester, the risks are lowest now. We can’t delay this.” I stared at her gloved hands. Those were the exact hands that, in my past life, reached into my body, severed my baby’s umbilical cord, and permanently mutilated me. My stomach violently churned. I gripped the edge of the operating table so hard my fingernails nearly cracked. Ethan stepped forward. His brow was furrowed deeply. It wasn’t an act; he looked genuinely impatient. “Maya, stop throwing a tantrum.” He spoke with a heavy, suppressed annoyance, like a doctor scolding a non-compliant patient. “If we have a child with severe chromosomal defects, the baby will suffer its whole life, and we will be dragged down forever.” “Didn’t we already agree on this?” Agreed. I almost laughed out loud. Yes, it was agreed. He and Chloe had agreed on it. I glared at him, forcing every word through my teeth: “My baby. I am having him.” “I don’t care if he’s healthy or not. I am giving birth to my son!” My voice was ironclad. Ethan’s face darkened further. “This is not the time to be overly emotional. The diagnostic markers are right there. Science doesn’t lie.” “If you have him, are you just going to sit at home crying every day?” Chloe immediately chimed in, her voice even softer. “Maya, Ethan is doing this for your own good.” “Don’t blame him for being blunt. As doctors, we see these tragic cases all the time. If you wait, the procedure becomes much more dangerous.” “You’re still young. Later on…” Later on? My head snapped up to look at her. What did she write on that burner account? [I personally performed the abortion, and while I was in there, I removed her uterus. She’ll never be able to get pregnant again.] “Later on, what?” My voice sounded like it had been dragged across sandpaper. Chloe flinched under my glare and took a step back, her smile faltering. “Later on… you can always try for a healthy baby.” The anesthesiologist walked over, looking visibly annoyed, holding a syringe. “It’s time for the anesthesia. Are we doing this procedure or not?” Two assisting nurses murmured under their breath nearby. “Backing out right on the operating table.” “I’ve seen so many delusional mothers like this. Once the kid is born, their lives are over.” “Exactly. A Down syndrome baby destroys the whole family.” Every single word felt like a needle being driven into my eardrums. Surrounded by a sea of white coats, I felt like a hunted animal. Everyone in this room thought I was insane. But I was the only one who knew the truth: I was the most lucid person in the building. The baby in my womb was a perfectly healthy boy. And they were trying to trick me onto the surgical table to throw my child away like medical waste. The anesthesia needle moved closer. Chloe shot a quick look at the nurses, and two of them immediately stepped forward to hold down my shoulders. “Maya, don’t be nervous. Just go to sleep. You’ll wake up and it will all be over.” Her voice was still so gentle. Ethan turned his back to me and checked the clock on the wall. “Listen to Chloe. Let’s hurry this up, she has other surgeries scheduled today.” The blood in my veins boiled, rushing straight to my head. With a violent burst of adrenaline, I ripped my arm free and violently yanked the IV line out of the back of my hand. Drops of blood splattered across the sterile white sheets. “Don’t touch me!” I rolled off the surgical table, my knee slamming hard against the metal step stool. The pain was blinding, but I ignored it. “I am of sound mind, and I revoke my consent for this surgery!” “If anyone attempts to anesthetize me, I will press charges for medical battery and forced surgery!” I forced myself to stand, glaring daggers at Ethan. “Call your Chief of Medicine down here right now!” Everyone in the room froze. Ethan slowly turned around, his eyes as cold as a scalpel. “Maya, you are insisting on giving birth to a severely disabled child. Have you even considered what that will do to our family?” He enunciated every word, speaking as if he were reading a terminal diagnosis. “Have you considered his quality of life?” It felt like someone had crushed my lungs. It was so laughable. In my past life, right up until the moment I died, I never figured it out. Did Ethan genuinely believe that fake diagnostic report? Or did he personally push me onto the operating table just because Chloe said she didn’t want him to have a baby? Now, standing right in front of me, he was calm, restrained, and logical. So logical it made me want to vomit. Chloe immediately rushed over, crouching slightly in front of me, her tone urgent and sweet. “Maya, Ethan is only thinking of you.” “Think about it. How many judgmental stares will this child face?” “You can’t ruin his entire life just to satisfy your own obsession with becoming a mother.” She grew more animated, her eyes even welling with tears. “I work in Obstetrics. I’ve seen too many cases like this. Truly, families like that always fall apart in the end.” The nurses nodded in agreement. I gripped the edge of the surgical bed, forcing the words out one by one: “I said, I am having my baby.” “Even if the entire world tries to stop me, I am having him.” Ethan closed his eyes, exhaling sharply like he was dealing with an irrational lunatic. “You are too emotionally unstable right now. You are not fit to make any medical decisions.” He turned to the nurses. “Transfer her to a private observation room. Keep her there.” “We will discuss this when she has calmed down.” I shot up. “You’re holding me hostage?” Ethan looked down at me, a trace of exhaustion in his eyes. “This is for your protection. To protect you, and the baby.” Protect. I nearly ground my teeth to dust. It sounded so noble. In my past life, it was exactly like this. I was locked in a VIP suite in this very hospital. I screamed for help, but no one came. By the time I was wheeled into the operating room, I didn’t even have the strength left to fight. Two nurses grabbed my arms, one on each side. “Mrs. Sterling, please don’t make this difficult.” Chloe was still putting on a show: “Maya, just get some rest. Don’t stress your body out.” “When you’ve thought it through, we can talk.” The door clicked shut behind me. Then came the heavy sound of a deadbolt locking. I sat on the hospital bed, my entire body trembling. Less than half an hour later, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. The door flew open. Ethan’s mother stormed in in her designer heels, slamming her purse onto the table. “Maya! Have you lost your damn mind?!” Ethan’s father stood behind her, his face dark with fury. “Has the Sterling family ever mistreated you? You insist on bringing a retarded child into this world just to make us the laughingstock of the city!” Mrs. Sterling slammed her hand on the table, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “If you don’t abort that thing right now, don’t ever expect to step foot in our house again!” “Ethan is in his prime! Why should his life be dragged down by you and a defective baby?!” I looked up at her and slowly smiled. “I am the mother of this child.” “Whether he lives or dies is my decision.” Mrs. Sterling’s face twisted in rage. “You! You are completely unreasonable!” “Chloe is such a sweet girl, trying so hard to advise you, and you treat her like garbage!” “I think you’re deliberately trying to ruin the Sterling family!” Chloe appeared in the doorway, her eyes rimmed red. “Mrs. Sterling, please don’t upset yourself.” “Maya is just having a hard time processing the grief. We’ll try to talk to her again.” Outside the door, a few nurses were peeking in. “That’s the one insisting on keeping the Down syndrome baby.” “I don’t know what goes through their heads.” “She married into wealth and still acts like a psycho.” “Dr. Thorne is so sweet. I feel so bad she has to deal with a patient like that.” I sat on the bed, burning every single one of those words into my memory. They were all taking Chloe’s side. They were all deciding whether my child deserved to live or die. I closed my eyes, my brain spinning rapidly. I couldn’t expose the fake report right now. Chloe’s father was a major board member and investor in this hospital. This was her territory. Without hard evidence, exposing her now would only tip her off and give her time to destroy the paper trail. I had to wait. Wait for an airtight opportunity to nail her to the wall. But first, I needed to get out of here. I walked over to the window and looked down. Third floor. The baby in my belly gave a soft, tiny flutter. I instinctively placed a hand over my abdomen. My nose stung, and I nearly broke down in tears. I can’t cry. If I cry, I lose. My parents were living overseas. Right now, there was only one person who could get me out of here. I quickly dialed a number. It rang exactly once before it connected. The man on the other end was silent for half a second before his deep voice murmured: “Maya?” My throat tightened. I practically bit the words out: “I need to get out of this hospital.” “Come get me. Quietly.” After slipping out, I went straight to a high-end private clinic across town, using their VIP entrance to ensure anonymity. Blood draws. Ultrasounds. An amniocentesis. The specialist looked at the monitors and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Fetal development is perfectly healthy. All genetic markers are well within the normal range.” I clutched the printouts, my knuckles white. “Can you determine the gender?” The doctor smiled warmly. “It’s a boy. He looks perfectly healthy.” The clinic door clicked shut behind me. I slid down the wall and crouched on the floor, burying my face in my arms. My shoulders shook violently. In my past life, I personally signed the consent forms that ended his life. In this life, I finally held the truth in my hands. I took high-resolution photos of every page of the report. I hid the originals in the lining of my jacket, backed the photos up to my cloud drive, and emailed them to a secure address only I knew. Once I was done, I sent a text to Ethan. “I left the hospital. I’m going home.” When I walked through the front door, the entryway lights were on. Ethan was already waiting in the living room. He sat on the sofa, still wearing his white coat, holding a manila folder in his hands. Chloe stood right behind him. “Maya, you’re finally back,” Chloe rushed forward, her eyes red again. “Ethan and I looked everywhere for you all afternoon. We were terrified.” I sidestepped her and stared at Ethan. “Looking for me? Or making sure I didn’t escape?” Ethan looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked exhausted. “Where did you go?” I didn’t answer. He tossed the manila folder onto the coffee table. “The baby’s condition is much worse than the initial assessments indicated.” I froze. “The new genetic microarray results came back. The risk value for Neural Tube Defects is four points higher than the last screening.” He looked at me, his tone strictly clinical. “The longer you drag this out, the more severe the physical trauma will be to your body.” Chloe stood next to him, whispering: “Maya, this isn’t the time to be stubborn. The data doesn’t lie.” I bent down, picked up the folder, and pulled out the report. It was identical to the fake report they had shown me in my past life. I looked up at Chloe. “I want a retest.” Chloe’s eyes flickered, her smile turning stiff. “Maya, this test was processed by the top lab in the state. Doing it again is just putting yourself through unnecessary physical pain.” I glared at her icily: “It was processed at your hospital. I don’t trust it.” “I want to go to an independent testing facility of my choice.” Ethan frowned. “You don’t even trust our own hospital anymore?” “The person I don’t trust is her.” I pointed directly at Chloe. Chloe acted as if I had just stabbed her. The tears instantly flowed. “Maya, how could you say that about me?” “I have been running myself ragged trying to manage your care. I even personally coordinated the surgical schedule for you.” She sobbed, her shoulders trembling perfectly. “Ethan, does Maya have some kind of misunderstanding about me?” Ethan looked at me, his voice dropping into a harsh reprimand: “Chloe has been managing your prenatal care from day one. She knows these reports better than anyone.” “Demanding an outside facility is a direct insult to her professional integrity.” “Exactly,” I said. “I am insulting her entire professional existence.” Chloe cried even harder. Ultimately, under Ethan’s “coordination,” I was forced to take another test at a different clinic—one specifically recommended by Chloe. When the results came back, I stared at the paper, my heart sinking. It was compromised. The data was identical to the fake report. I gripped the paper, my hands shaking violently. Not out of fear. Out of pure, unadulterated hatred. She had even bribed the staff at the secondary clinic. Chloe stood next to me, sighing softly: “Maya, surely you have to believe it now.” Ethan took the report from her hands, glanced at it, and then looked at me. A fleeting look of sorrow crossed his eyes, but it vanished instantly. “I’ve already booked the OR time.” My head snapped up. “I am not doing it!” “Ethan, let me make this perfectly clear. I will die before I let you abort this baby!” He closed his eyes, sounding unimaginably drained: “Maya, you are sick.” “Ever since you backed out on the operating table, you’ve been sick.” “Your emotional instability has completely destroyed your ability to reason.” “I am your husband. I cannot stand by and watch you destroy your life.” I took a step back. “What are you going to do?” He didn’t look at me. He spoke toward the hallway: “Come in.” Two burly male orderlies in uniform walked in, flanking me on both sides. “Take my wife back to the hospital for bed rest,” Ethan ordered. I fought wildly. “Ethan! You’re insane! I want a divorce!” He turned his back to me, his voice sounding like it was coming from a mile away. “When you’ve calmed down, we will talk.” I was placed under house arrest in a VIP hospital suite. The door was deadbolted from the outside, and the window could only open a crack. I went on a hunger strike. On the first day, the nurses took the untouched food trays away. On the second day, Ethan came. He held a bowl of oatmeal, sat on the edge of my bed, blew on a spoonful, and brought it to my lips. “Eat.” I turned my head away. He gripped my jaw firmly, forced the spoon past my lips, and made me swallow. I choked and coughed violently, my tears soaking the hospital blanket. “Why are you so obsessed with killing him?” I glared at him with pure venom, my throat raw. “Tell me, Ethan! Why?!” He set the bowl down and gently wiped the oatmeal from the corner of my mouth with a tissue. “Because he has Down syndrome.” “No responsible father would bring a life into this world knowing it is destined to suffer.” I sobbed, my entire body shaking. “What gives you the right to say he isn’t healthy?! Do you know what this baby means to me?!” “My body was so weak. To get pregnant, I drank bitter herbal medicine for three years. I took over a hundred hormone injections!” “I almost died trying to have this baby!” Ethan’s fingers paused. I grabbed his wrist with a death grip, my fingernails digging into his skin. “Even if he wasn’t perfectly healthy, with the resources our families have, do you really think we couldn’t provide for him?” “Are we poor? Do we lack support? Ethan, what exactly are you so terrified of?!” He stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin, grim line. For a fraction of a second, something in his eyes waered. Something faint and fleeting. But right as he opened his mouth to speak, the hospital room door swung open. Chloe stood in the doorway, her white coat stained with fresh blood. “Ethan, there’s an emergency C-section in the ER. Massive maternal hemorrhage. The Chief of Surgery needs you in there immediately.” Ethan stood up instantly, shoving the bowl of oatmeal into my hands. “We will finish this conversation when I get back.” He walked out quickly, never looking back. Once the door closed, Chloe didn’t leave. She walked slowly into the room and locked the deadbolt behind her. “Maya, why do you put yourself through this?” I shrank back against the headboard, watching her like a hawk. She smiled, pulling a syringe from her pocket and popping off the cap. “What are you doing?!” “Don’t worry,” she said, pinning my arm down with terrifying strength. “This is just Pitocin. It’s going to induce labor and help put you out of your misery.” I thrashed violently, but her other hand pinned my legs down. “Chloe! Don’t you dare!” The moment the needle pierced my skin, I screamed. Shortly after, my abdomen began contracting violently. The pain was blinding. Chloe hit the call button and calmly told the nurses who rushed in: “The patient has gone into sudden early labor. Prep the OR.” I was lifted off the bed onto a gurney and rushed down the hall. When the blinding surgical lights turned on, I heard Chloe’s voice floating above me. “Prep for anesthesia.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. But my limbs felt like lead, and my tongue was thick and numb. I was awake. I was more lucid than I had ever been in my entire life. I lay there, helpless, watching Chloe step up as the lead surgeon. I watched the nurses scramble around, following her orders. No one thought anything was wrong. No one even looked at me. Chloe leaned down. Over her surgical mask, her eyes curved into a sweet, crescent smile. She brought her lips right to my ear and whispered in a voice only I could hear: “The baby inside you isn’t a Down syndrome baby at all.” My pupils dilated in absolute horror. “I swapped the reports.” “I wanted to personally cut your baby out of you, and then casually remove your uterus so you can never, ever have a child again.” Her words were like red-hot iron spikes being driven directly into my brain. “Ethan agreed to it. He asked me to personally perform your surgery.” “Do you want to know why?” She gently patted my pale cheek. “Because I’m pregnant with his child.” My brain exploded in a deafening roar of static. She picked up the scalpel with her sterile gloved hand, tilting her head at me. “Just go to sleep, Maya.” The cold, gleaming steel of the blade slowly moved toward my abdomen. I couldn’t move a single muscle. Silent tears poured relentlessly from the corners of my eyes. Right at that exact second, the heavy doors of the operating room were violently kicked open from the outside. “STOP!” The man who kicked the door open was Liam Carter. He stood in the doorway, wearing a sharp black suit, his face carved from ice. Behind him stood agents from the State Medical Board, officers from the Department of Health, and over a dozen private security contractors. Every single one of them was wearing a body camera. Chloe’s scalpel hovered just inches above my stomach. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, taking a step back but keeping the knife in her hand. “This is a sterile operating room! Who let you in here?!”
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