When I'm Not Loving You

"0711, step forward."

The prison hall was brightly lit at night. Over three hundred female inmates in identical uniforms stood silently.

Inmate number 1174, Aria, stared at the gynecological examination table in front of her, her body trembling with fear.

“No. I don’t want an exam.”

“Take off your clothes. You’re pregnant. This is a routine daily check-up. It’s also Mr. Smith’s orders,” the female guard said expressionlessly.

The moment she heard Mr. Smith, Aria trembled even harder.

Micheal. He was merciless. It had been six months—was he still not done humiliating her?

Every single day for the past six months, she was forced to strip naked in front of all the female prisoners and guards.

Then, shamefully, she would lie on that examination table, spread her legs, and allow the doctor to touch her from chest to bottom while everyone watched…

“No. I want to see Micheal. I want to see him! If he doesn't come, I won’t do the check-up.”

Instead of stepping forward, Aria backed away. The cold examination table looked like a monster, ready to devour every last shred of her dignity.

Every time she was examined, she felt crushed into the dust.

If it weren’t for the child, if it weren’t for finding out who framed her—she would’ve long given up on living.

“Aria, this prison is Mr. Smith’s doing. You think just because you want to see him, he’ll come running? Keep dreaming.”

“Take off your clothes. Hurry up. Or do you want us to help you undress?”

The other inmates in the holding area stared at her with gleaming eyes, excitement written all over their faces.

Aria trembled even more violently. She had resisted once before—and they had swarmed her.

Not only was she stripped naked, but the women had pinched and twisted her all over…

She couldn’t go through that again. She would rather die.

Clenching her eyes shut, Aria turned and charged toward the wall.

“Stop her!” the guard shouted.

Crash! Several inmates rushed over and grabbed her uniform without hesitation.

Suddenly, a warm wetness spread beneath her. Fluid flowed down her legs. Aria’s face turned pale.

“M-My water broke… I… I’m going into labor…”

The guard glanced at the blood and fluid on the floor. Premature labor. Not her problem.

“Alright, show’s over. Everyone back to your rooms.”

Aria’s eyes widened. Go back to her cell like this? Alone?

She grabbed the guard’s arm. “Tell Micheal! This is his child. If anything happens to the baby, he won’t forgive you!”

That got the guard’s attention. She clearly panicked.

“Fine. Go back to your cell and wait. Whether the child lives or dies… Mr. Smith will decide.”

Stumbling back to her cell, pain tearing through her abdomen, sweat poured down Aria’s face.

She barely made it to the wooden bed before something slipped out of her with a rush. A baby.

She gave birth.

Aria looked over with joy. The premature baby, wrinkled and small—looked just like her.

Bang! The cell door swung open. Micheal walked in with a cold expression.

“Who gave you permission to give birth?”

Aria froze. “Micheal, look at her. She’s your flesh and blood!”

“What’s this, then?” Micheal flung a photo and a report at her.

Without another word, he picked up the newborn and took a wet white cloth from the guard behind him.

He covered the baby’s tiny face.

In an instant, the baby stopped breathing.

Only air going out—none coming in…