My Final Gift: A Heart for My Betrayer

I was sprawled on the bed, feeling as though every bone in my body had been shattered.

The nurse brought my baby, Avery Sinclair, over to give me a quick look. He was a boy with a wrinkled little face and a loud, piercing cry.

Excusing myself to use the restroom, I endured the searing pain coursing through my body and made my way toward the restroom at the end of the corridor. It was close to my sister-in-law, Verna Bloom's, hospital room.

Muffled conversation leaked through the wall. I could make out my husband, Craig Sinclair's, voice, and he sounded absolutely ecstatic. "Look, Vern. He has a birthmark on his shoulder that's exactly like mine!"

Verna's voice was faint, but she sounded equally delighted. "It's all your fault! I was so close to my due date, yet you just couldn't keep your hands to yourself yesterday... and now you've caused me to go into labor early."

Craig chuckled. "I know, I know. It's my fault. But this works out in our favor. It saves us the trouble of dragging things out with excuses after Althea gives birth."

He paused before adding, "Don't worry. Ever since she got pregnant, the sight of her belly has made me nauseous. I haven't touched her a single time. Later, I'll get the doctor to issue a certificate saying my heart condition has worsened and that we can't share a bed anymore from now on."

When I heard that, my nails dug into my palms. Back when I was experiencing morning sickness so severe the world spun, he had told me his heart condition was acting up and that he needed to rest in a quiet environment. Concerned about him, I had endured it all on my own.

Later, he grew cold toward me. I thought it was because his health was deteriorating and he was in a bad mood. Turns out, he just found me repulsive.

I took a deep breath and messaged Lyle Cook, the male caregiver I had bought off the moment I was reborn. "You can switch the babies' name tags now."

Then, I deleted the message, slipped back into my hospital room, and crawled into bed, pretending to be asleep.

Not long after, I heard someone walk in. Keeping my eyes shut, I listened to them pick up the child and tiptoe out of my room.

…

The following day, Craig showed up at the hospital, his complexion still as pallid as before. Several doctors followed in his wake, wheeling Verna's hospital bed in. Propped up against the pillows, she looked frail.

Craig walked over to me. "Honey, you must be exhausted."

Looking at him, I sneered inwardly.

"Verna's baby didn't make it. He was born prematurely and died. She's not in a good headspace right now, so I've arranged for her to stay in this VIP room for a few days. It's quieter here, and better for her recovery," he brought it up as if it were a casual afterthought.

I didn't say a word.

"She's your sister-in-law, after all, and Alvin was gone too soon. Since we're all family, I thought it'd be nice if she became our baby's godmother. What do you think?"

I looked him dead in the eye. There wasn't a single shred of guilt in them. He had somehow managed to dress up a shameful affair with his widowed sister-in-law—and their illegitimate child—as nothing more than a benevolent husband showing compassion to a grieving widow.

"Sure." I nodded apathetically.

Craig nodded in satisfaction before turning around and picking up a thermal flask. He then headed out to get some water.

My gaze drifted to the postpartum mesh underwear on my nightstand. It was Verna's size.

Even the recovery garment he had prepared for me was bought according to her measurements. All of a sudden, I felt like a joke.

Craig left with the thermal flask, and the doctors filed out once they had Verna settled. However, the moment they were gone, she slowly sat up, and as if pulled by an invisible thread, her feet began to shuffle toward the bassinet.

"Verna, you just gave birth; you should stay in bed." My voice turned cold.

She glanced at me and smiled warmly. "I just want to look at the baby."

"Don't bother. He just fell asleep." Positioning myself defensively in front of the bassinet, I pushed her away.

Verna yelped and fell to the ground.

"Vern!" Craig exclaimed.

The hem of her hospital gown was already stained a dark crimson. Evidently, her stitches had torn open.

"Thea, I just wanted to look at your baby. Why'd you push me? Are you afraid my misfortune will rub off on your little one?" Verna sobbed.

He snapped his head up, shooting daggers at me. "Verna's fresh out of the operating room, Althea! Why on earth did you push her? You've truly lost your mind!

"I'm transferring her to the platinum suite, meanwhile you can stay here and think about what you've done!"

Craig didn't show his face for the next several days. My wound throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, but I endured it and never pressed the call button even once.