Chapter 3

Every time I went to the hospital, I played the role of the most devoted first-time mother. During my prenatal checkups, I held a notebook and carefully wrote down every instruction, while my phone quietly recorded everything from inside my pocket.

At the payment window, I pestered the nurses until they gave me itemized receipts with all the necessary stamps.

I would say, "Ma'am, I need to keep these for reimbursement."

In the ultrasound room, I begged Michael to print out the images.

I lovingly ran my fingers over the blurry gray shapes and said, "I want to make a scrapbook of the baby's growth. Then, I can show it to him after he's born."

There were more than half a year's worth of prenatal records, payment receipts, and ultrasound images. I kept everything in a file folder. It grew thicker and thicker.

Two weeks before my due date, the hospital's attitude toward me suddenly changed. When I went in for a checkup, the nurses were no longer eager to help. Instead, they acted as if I were a hot potato they desperately wanted to avoid.

In the ultrasound room, Michael spent less and less time looking at the screen.

Once, he even turned the machine off and hesitated before speaking. "Ms. Linden, our hospital is actually short on beds right now. Why don't you consider giving birth at another hospital?"

I rubbed my perfectly flat stomach, looking completely innocent. "Transfer? Why? My entire medical file is here! Besides, the hospital gave me a discount card. I get 20% off."

Michael's expression stiffened, and he said nothing more.

I knew exactly what they were thinking. With my due date approaching, they were more nervous than I was.

What were they going to do when the day of delivery actually arrived? There was nothing inside my stomach. They couldn't exactly cut me open and pull out a "baby" from somewhere.

One week before my due date, I deliberately went to find Michael. He was packing his briefcase when I walked in. When he saw me, he instinctively frowned.

I said, "Michael, I'm due next week, and I'm still a little scared. I was hoping to book a... better delivery package."

My voice trembled as I fidgeted with my fingers, pretending to be embarrassed.

"A better delivery package?" Michael repeated.

"Yes." I looked up at him with eager anticipation. "I want the most expensive and advanced option. Money isn't a problem. I just want the best for my baby."

The air went completely still for two seconds. Then, Michael's eyes lit up, and his grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Ms. Linden, you really are... one of our hospital's VIP clients! Don't worry. We offer water births, private midwives, postpartum recovery, rooming-in for mothers and babies..."

He pulled out a brochure and eagerly flipped through it, pointing out one service after another. I observed his enthusiasm and slowly smiled.

Soon, March 14 came. It was one day before my due date.

I had just finished class when the hospital called to say, "Ms. Linden, tomorrow is your due date. You need to be admitted today for delivery. We've reserved a private deluxe room for you. Please come in as soon as possible to complete the admission process."

I went back to my dorm and packed my things. That evening, I arrived at St. Rufus Hospital right on schedule with my maternity bag.

A nurse enthusiastically led me to my room. The sheets were fresh, carrying a faint scent of disinfectant mixed with air freshener. She efficiently checked my blood pressure and listened to my heartbeat, her expression focused and professional.

At the end, she even hooked me up to an "oxytocin drip". Clear liquid dripped slowly through the IV.

I knew it was nothing more than saline. I lay in bed, resting my hand over my flat stomach, and drifted into a deep sleep.

On March 15, at 8:00 am, Michael came in for his rounds.

He glanced at me and said, "Andy, you can go home."

I slowly sat up and rubbed my sleepy eyes. "Huh? What about my baby?"

He frowned as if he were looking at a lunatic. "What baby? What are you talking about?"

I smiled and pulled my medical records from beneath my pillow. "I'm here to give birth. Today's my due date. You just told me I could go home, so where's my baby?"

Michael's face turned pale, and his voice grew shaky. "I don't know what you're talking about. The tests show that you're perfectly healthy. You can be discharged."

Just then, my phone buzzed with a bank notification. "St. Rufus Hospital charged you a delivery fee of ten thousand dollars. Your remaining balance is 523.60 dollars."

I stared at the screen and laughed in disbelief.

I raised my phone and waved it in front of him, my voice beginning to tremble. "I already paid the delivery fee. You hooked me up to an oxytocin drip. I endured all those contractions. And now you're telling me... Where's my baby?"

I glared at him, my eyes turning red as my voice suddenly turned shrill. "You illegally performed surgery on me, made me pregnant, and made me give birth! Where did you take my baby?"

Michael was visibly shaken by my demeanor. His face turned even paler.

He took half a step back and spoke in a trembling voice. "Don't make a scene! This is a hospital. Mind yourself, or I'll send you to the psychiatric ward!"

"The psychiatric ward?" I stopped and repeated the words softly.

I pulled my phone out from beneath my pillow and dialed a number right in front of him. "Hello, I'd like to report a crime."

I looked up at Michael's pale face, my voice calm and deliberate. "St. Rufus Hospital illegally performed surgery on me and made me give birth to a baby even though I'm a man!"