He said, "Abigail, don't worry. I'll always take care of you. Even if you can’t stand for the rest of your life, it doesn’t matter to me. And our baby is already eight months along, I swear, once our child is born, I’ll devote myself completely to you both."

If I hadn’t overheard that conversation outside the study, I might have been touched. I might have believed him, let his words ease the ache in my chest.

But now, all I felt was cold.

"Oh, right," Scott said suddenly, his tone casual, like he hadn’t just shattered my world. "An expert from abroad arrived today. I met with him earlier, he says he can help with your delivery, but the process will be painful. You’ll have to endure a little more discomfort each day."

Then, as if it were nothing, he added, "You know how hard it was for us to conceive this child. We have to make sure the birth goes smoothly, no matter what."

At his signal, a doctor in a white coat stepped into the room, carrying a syringe as thick as my finger. My breath caught. I shook my head and looked at Scott. "I don’t need the injection. The baby will be fine."

For a split second, his face hardened. A flicker of irritation crossed his features, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

Then, in a voice that left no room for argument, he said, "No. This is for your own good."

Before I could protest, he shoved my shoulders down. The needle plunged into my spine.

Pain exploded through me; cold, sharp, unbearable. The sensation twisted deep, spreading like fire and ice all at once. My body trembled violently, and as darkness crept in, I realized something.

Whatever love I had left for Scott, it was gone. When I woke again, it was late. The room was dim, silent except for the faint sound of Scott’s breathing.

He was still there, sitting by my side. Scott’s face was full of worry when I opened my eyes. "Abigail, you're awake! Are you feeling okay? The doctor said the baby is doing great. He even called you the bravest mother in the world!"

He looked at me like he actually cared, like I was supposed to be touched by his words. But all I could manage was a bitter smile.

I reached up and brushed my fingers against his tired, red-rimmed eyes. "I'm fine. You should get some rest."

It didn’t take long for his breathing to slow beside me.