"But the baby has severe deformities. Even if Celine carries it to term, the child won't survive. I can't bear to put her through ten months of pregnancy only to watch our baby die in front of her. That would be too cruel—for the baby, and for Celine."
"We've already discussed it. The procedure is scheduled for tomorrow."
"I'll perform the surgery myself. I'll make sure nothing goes wrong."
Everyone in that room knew Edward was lying.
But no one called him out.
Instead, they exchanged glances and kept their silence—a shared, unspoken understanding.
After a long pause, Margaret couldn't hold back any longer.
"Edward, can we postpone tomorrow's surgery?"
Edward frowned slightly. "Why would we postpone it?"
"Mom, it took everything Celine had to agree to this. If we cancel now and she changes her mind, what then? She'll only get more attached. Better to rip off the bandage than drag out the pain."
Sophie looked like she was about to burst into tears.
"Edward, if you go through with this surgery—you're going to regret it for the rest of your life!"
Edward's expression didn't waver.
"Regret? Why would I ever regret this?"
"This is for your sister-in-law's own good. I have no reason to regret it."
He turned to me—silent, unmoving—and his voice softened with concern.
"Sweetheart, you look terrible. Are you feeling unwell?"
I met his worried gaze. My chest tightened.
"It's nothing." I forced the words out. "Just... nervous."
That much was true.
But it wasn't tomorrow's surgery that frightened me.
Edward drew me close, his arm curling around my shoulders, his voice impossibly gentle.
"Don't be scared. I'm right here."
"Once you're in the operating room, you'll just fall asleep, and when you wake up, it'll all be over."
No.
He didn't understand.
He had no idea what tomorrow's surgery truly meant.
Margaret and Sophie opened their mouths to say something more, but my parents intercepted them, ushering them away.
Before leaving, my parents turned back. Their eyes met mine—heavy with something I couldn't name.
Edward noticed none of it. He was too consumed by the joy of what tomorrow would bring.
His mood soared. He insisted on cooking dinner himself—a full spread of all my favorite dishes.
That night, Edward held me tight as he drifted off, murmuring my name even in his sleep.
The next morning, we arrived at the hospital together.
Soon, I was being wheeled into the operating room.