Forced Into Four Miscarriages, My Husband Went Mad After I Vanished

Tim Delgado and I had been married five years, and in that time I'd lost three babies to what everyone called accidents.

The fourth time I got pregnant, he treated me like I was made of glass, and looking into those gentle eyes of his, I let myself believe that this time, finally, a little life would make it.

Then, that day, I overheard Tim talking with a doctor friend of his.

"Harper's already given me a son. The birth quota only allows one registered child, so if Eva Fox has this one, it counts as an illegal extra birth."

The doctor sounded put out. "But Eva's already miscarried three times. One more and she'll never carry again."

My whole body locked up, like I'd been dropped into a freezer.

He'd promised me a wedding once the baby came. But it turned out my baby was never meant to be born at all.

When Tim came out, he was quiet for a moment, then let out a sudden sigh.

"The doctor says the baby's too weak, that it'll have a genetic defect if it's born. Let's just do the sensible thing and end it this time."

He patted my back. "Even if you can never have children, I'll still stay with you."

I looked into those worried eyes of his, and everything inside me went cold.

This time, I wasn't going to let him get his way.

1

When Tim came out of the exam room, he found me sitting on the bench in the hallway, staring at nothing.

On the white wall of the corridor hung one of those big-headed cartoon posters: One couple, one child.

He crouched down and saw the genetic screening report tucked under my ultrasound results.

"Eva, the doctor says the baby has a defect. I don't want to lose it either, but I'm scared it'll suffer if it's born, and I'm scared of you going through all that pain again."

Tim held my hand. I lifted my head to look at him, my eyes dry.

"Tim, the doctor said that if I end this one, I'll have trouble ever getting pregnant again."

"I'm going to have her."

Tim reached out and held me gently, but his palm was trembling with nerves.

"I know you want to be a mother, but I'm more afraid of something happening to you. We'll figure something out later, all right?"

Just as we got back to the ward,

a woman was standing there with Aiden,

my family's adopted daughter, Harper Fox.

She'd come.

My parents trailed in behind her.

Inside the room, Harper sat on the edge of the bed, holding my hand.

"Eva, Tim already told us everything. This baby has a genetic defect. If she's born, she'll have to face the cruelty of the world and a lifetime of pain and illness."

"Mom and Dad are getting old, they can't take this kind of strain. You can't only think about being a mother. Think about Tim too. If the child isn't healthy, how is he supposed to hold his head up at the company?"

My father sighed. "Harper's right. You can't be this selfish."

My mother nodded along. "Look how sensible Harper is. She's the one thinking about what's best for this whole family."

The tears finally spilled over, but I didn't nod.

Because I knew that if this baby was gone, I would never have a child again for the rest of my life.

I braced myself against the edge of the bed and sat up. My voice was faint, but every word shook.

I looked at Tim and wiped my tears away.

"This might be the only chance heaven will ever give me to be a mother."

Harper's smile froze on her face.

Tim blurted out, "I'm not trying to hurt the baby. I'm just afraid you'll be haunted if you see the child."

Harper shoved the medicine down to the bottom of her bag and said brightly to Aiden, "Aiden's such a good boy. You've been so healthy lately, no more medicine for you."

"Go tell your auntie to be good and sign the papers, and to take her medicine on time just like you did, and then someday she'll have a little baby too."

Tim caught it out of the corner of his eye and frowned. "The doctor said to take it on schedule. Don't get careless."

Harper hooked her arm through Tim's and pouted. "I've got it handled. Look how full of energy Aiden is."

Watching Harper hang on Tim's arm, an arm I had never once held,

my nails dug deep into my palm, and only when the pain hit did I come back to myself.

Slowly I pushed myself up and, leaning on the wall, edged out of the ward one step at a time, my fingertips trembling as I sent my friend a message: "Book me a ticket out a few days from now. The farther the better."