Everyone Denied My Seven-Month Bump

The smell of antiseptic, the sharp sting of restraints biting into my flesh, and the pitying look on Silas's face as he stood by my hospital bed. 

"Maeve, you're so sick. The baby is just a hallucination."

In my last life, consumed by despair and self-doubt, I threw myself off the roof of the psychiatric hospital.

But now, my eyes snapped open, my hands instinctively flying to protect my stomach.

My baby is still here!

I'm back—exactly one week before my child disappeared.

——

"Maeve? Sweetheart, did you have another nightmare?"

I whipped my head around.

Silas, wearing his gray silk pajamas, was half-kneeling beside the bed.

His hand was reaching out, trying to touch my cold sweat-drenched forehead.

Violent, uncontrollable shivers racked my body, my stomach churning.

"Don't touch me!" I practically screamed, scrambling desperately toward the headboard, my hands fiercely clutching my belly.

Through the thin fabric of my nightgown, I could feel the little life inside me shifting restlessly, agitated by its mother's panic.

Still here. My baby was still here.

Silas's hand froze in midair.

"Okay, okay, I won't touch you." He raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his voice softening even further. "Is the stress of the third trimester getting to you? Dr. Vance said your hormone levels have been unstable lately, making you prone to hallucinations and paranoia. Deep breaths, Maeve. I'm right here."

Hallucinations. Paranoia.

In my previous life, it all started with these seemingly caring words.

On this exact day in my previous life, I also had a nightmare.

A week later, after drinking a glass of warm milk he had personally brought me at home, I fell into a prolonged, deep sleep.

When I finally woke up in the hospital, my stomach was flat.

I searched for my baby like a madwoman.

But Silas told all the visiting friends and family, "Maeve was never pregnant. She suffered psychological trauma from her previous miscarriage and just believed she was."

"She's lost her mind."

Everyone believed it.

Because Dr. Vance produced medical reports proving I had never been pregnant to begin with.

Even all the baby supplies in our house, the ultrasound prints—everything was completely gone.

I became a textbook madwoman. I was ultimately forced into St. Mary's Psychiatric Sanatorium, where I died in utter despair, subdued by massive daily doses of sedatives.

"Maeve?" Silas's hand landed on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. "Look at you, you're drenched in sweat. Let me draw a bath for you and get you a pill to calm your nerves, okay?"

I stared at the handsome, flawless face before me.

This was the husband I had deeply loved for five years, the man I thought I could entrust my life to.

Now, I only saw a demon wearing human skin.

"I'm fine," I said, lowering my eyes to force down the terror and hatred welling up inside me. "I probably just had a bad dream. I'm sorry, Silas. I lost control of my emotions just now."

"Silly, what are you apologizing for?" He planted a kiss on my forehead. "You're the most precious person in this house right now. I'll go get you a glass of warm water."

Watching his back as he turned and walked out of the bedroom, I bit down hard on my lower lip.

In this life, I didn't know what tricks he would use to steal my baby, nor did I know why on earth he was doing it.

But no matter what, until I uncovered the truth, I absolutely could not tip him off.

I threw off the covers and walked barefoot into the walk-in closet.

In the bottom drawer, I found the prenatal check-up reports and ultrasound photos I had just brought back from the hospital yesterday.

Looking at the blurry but fully formed little face in the photo, tears slipped down my cheeks.

"Mommy will absolutely protect you this time."

Then, I took out my phone and photographed the reports, page by page.

I didn't save them to my local photo album. Instead, I logged into an overseas cloud drive account I registered five years ago, encrypted all the photos, and uploaded them.

Just as I finished, I heard footsteps echoing in the hallway.

I quickly shoved the reports back into the drawer and cleared the background apps on my phone.

Silas walked in carrying a glass of water, holding a small white pill in his other hand.

"Here, take this," he said with a smile. "Later, we'll go see Dr. Vance for a check-up."

I looked at the pill, laughing coldly inside.

In my previous life, it was exactly because I took these so-called "vitamins" on time every day that I became increasingly lethargic, my memory fading away.

"Okay." I obediently accepted the pill, popped it in my mouth, and took a large gulp of water.

Under Silas's satisfied gaze, I swallowed loud enough for him to hear.

But what he didn't know was that the pill was currently being pressed tightly under my tongue.