Why Did They Say 'After Giving Birth They Said I Never Had A Baby'?

On the day of the earthquake, my sister Elena shoved me off the third floor, then burst into tears and said she had only been trying to save me. Everyone believed her. The only person who stood on my side was Nicolo, the youngest mafia boss Sicily had seen in decades. He lifted me out of the rubble, then proposed to me in front of everyone and said that from that day on, anyone who touched me would answer to him. Two months later, I was pregnant. Nicolo bought an entire island and planted it with my favorite irises for our wedding. My father spent a fortune on a one-of-a-kind gown made just for me. Everyone said I was the most envied woman in the family. Then I went into labor, and both of them disappeared. My father said the family had a deal on the line. Nicolo kissed my swollen belly, murmured that he would be back soon, and promised to bring gifts for me and the baby. Right before I was wheeled into the delivery room, an anonymous video landed on my phone. Nicolo was wearing a groom's suit. Elena stood beside him with a hand resting on her pregnant stomach. She was wearing my wedding dress. Her arm was looped through my fiance's as if she had won him fair and square. At the end of the clip, my father asked in a lowered voice, "If you and Valentina stay married only on paper, what happens to the child she gives birth to?" Nicolo was quiet for two seconds before he answered. "Valentina grew up with everything. Elena spent her whole life carrying the stain of being illegitimate. Her child will not grow up the same way." So all that tenderness had never been for me. It had all been for Elena. Fine. They could have each other.

After a two-week business trip, I pushed open the front door. After greeting my in-laws, I dragged my suitcase toward the bedroom. But just as my fingertips were about to touch the doorknob, a string of floating comments appeared before my eyes: [Don't go in! Your husband and your best friend are all over each other in your bed right now! If they find out you've seen them, they'll silence you for good!] I froze in terror. Just as I was about to turn around and run, I suddenly heard my baby's voice from inside my womb: [Mommy, don't believe that! Daddy passed out from low blood sugar while setting up a surprise for you. He sent you a message before he collapsed. Hurry and save him!] In my first life, I was too frightened to go inside. My husband froze to death on a floor covered with roses. My in-laws blamed me for not checking my messages, and in the end, they went mad with grief and pushed me off a building. In my second life, I tremblingly pushed open the door. My best friend instantly drove a knife through my heart. My husband sat on the bed the entire time, a smile on his face. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in front of the bedroom door once more. The floating comments and my baby's voice appeared at the same time.

I am finally pregnant with a child after being married to Anthony Johnson, my husband, who has azoospermia, for five years. Emily Johnson, my 30-year-old unemployed sister-in-law who lives off her family, tears the ultrasound scan apart and angrily accuses me of carrying someone else's baby. She then takes out a notebook packed with detailed records of every time Anthony and I have slept together since we got married. "In the past three months, the only time you slept with Anthony was three weeks ago; other than that, he never laid a finger on you! If you're over a month pregnant, then there's no way that baby belongs to the Johnson family!" I feel incredibly angry at the thought of being eavesdropped on all this time, so I seek out Anthony and demand an explanation. He merely looks at me with a pained expression and says, "You should just produce the evidence if you're innocent, Madison—just like Emily did." I laugh out of sheer exasperation. If they want evidence, then the baby I'm carrying is the best evidence there is.

For five years, I was married to Joshua Grayson. He was known as the gentleman of the tech industry and was never arrogant. In fact, he was always cool and collected. A shame we never had any children of our own. I asked every single doctor I could get my hands on, but nothing helped. For that, I kept beating myself up. Joshua told me that it was fine if we had no children, and that what mattered was that our souls were perfect for each other. We did not need any children to secure our bonds. I believed him. And then I found an unsealed box of Plan B in a secret space in his study. It looked exactly the same as the vitamin tablets he fed me all the time. A phone sat under the box. The screen was a photo of him with his top secretary, Yvonne Wellington. It was a family of three. Then, a message popped up on the screen. 'Our girl's born, Joshua! Haven't thought of her full name yet, so we'll call her Cece for now.' 'Oh, right, you fed your wife contraceptives for five years. Now that we have a perfect family, you should kick her out and make me your wife instead. When's that going to happen?' The message hit me like a lightning bolt that came out of nowhere. To think I wasted five years beating myself up for never getting a baby. To think I looked forward to one. And now, everything was crumbling around me.

At 3:00 p.m., Rose Jenkins, the new hire who had barely been here a few days, suddenly tagged me in the company group chat with a few hundred people in it. [Hi, can you stop hammering your keyboard? The noise is making my stomach hurt! The baby I'm carrying is sleeping. If you shake it into a concussion, I swear I'll make your whole family pay for it!] I rushed to explain. I was racing to finish a proposal that was due soon, and I was using a silent keyboard. But she wouldn't believe me, no matter what I said. I kept my patience and explained it over and over. To avoid any more trouble, I even asked if I could move out to the hallway to work. What I didn't expect was that a week later, she would storm into the break room with a kettle of freshly boiled water and dump it straight over my head. I collapsed in a pool of scalding water, my skin blistering and tearing open. She kept screaming as if she had lost her mind and smashed my head with her high heels, over and over. "It's all your fault! I lost the baby! Your keyboard noise shook my son to death!!" My vision blurred. By the time everything went black, I still couldn't understand how a silent keyboard could possibly kill someone. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she first went off on me in the group chat. This time, faced with the same insults, I didn't back down. I went straight into the chat and fired back. [Stop pretending you're pregnant. You've got more going on down there than your dad does!]

I suddenly got a call from the police, telling me I was involved in an abandoned baby case. My best buddy was holding me up as we rushed to the scene when Shirley Dunn, the girl who had asked me for directions last week, suddenly pointed straight at me. "That's her. I saw her this morning, holding her stomach, going into the restroom! Now the baby's been born, and her belly's flat!" I was completely stunned. Before I could react, she shoved the newborn straight into my arms. "This is your own flesh and blood! How could you abandon him?" The officer's expression was equally severe. "Miss, I understand that becoming a mother at 20 can be scary, but abandoning a baby is a crime. If you didn't want to raise a child, you shouldn't have had one." More and more college students gathered around, their stares stabbing into me like needles. Cold sweat soaked my back. My best friend suddenly burst out laughing. "Congrats, man! You're a dad now!"