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694words2026-01-26 09:07

After my third premature delivery ended in stillbirth, I hemorrhaged severely, likely due to emotional stress.
Meanwhile, James Carter climbed the hill to the church, performing a solemn ritual of penance to pray for my recovery.
Fresh from surgery, I lay in the hospital bed, just opening my eyes, about to ring for a nurse.

But I overheard James talking with the doctor outside my room.
"James, this is the third child you and Claire have lost. Even the strongest woman can't bear losing three children!"
"Ellen Hayes says she needs infant hearts for her treatment, and you're killing your own children for her? You're out of your mind."
"I promised Ellen I'd cure her no matter what costs. Once she's well, Claire and I will have a healthy child.I'll spend my life making it up to Claire, treating her right..."
My trembling hand froze.
To him, our children's lives were merely ingredients for Ellen's cure.

Now that the truth had finally revealed to me by accident, I won't let James deceive or use me anymore.
…
"You secretly drugged Claire three times, which already caused a miscarriage and severely harmed her body—yet you still want her to get pregnant again? Don’t you care if her body can even take it?"
"She's your wife, James. This is too cruel to her. How will she face those lost children?"

James cut the doctor off, irritated.
"Enough. I only asked you because you're my friend. This is my family business—stay out of it."
"Make sure Claire gets the best medicines to recover quickly so she can conceive again."
The doctor let out a long sigh, a trace of pity in his eyes.
"Claire's been pregnant three years straight, and with this hemorrhage, she'll need at least a year to recover before another pregnancy."
"Ellen can't wait a year. I don't care how—when Claire's discharged, I want her pregnant immediately!"
James's tone was resolute, unyielding.
As the doctor left, he glanced at my chart, a flicker of pity crossing his face.
"James, we've all seen Claire's devotion to you. How can you... Never mind. Just think it over, don't regret this."
"Get the medicines ready."
James pushed the door open, and I quickly shut my eyes.
He covered one hand over the IV tube, warming the cold fluid with his body heat.
With the other, he sent a voice message to Ellen.
"Ellen, you got the medicine, right? Take care of yourself. Don't worry about the supply—I promised to cure you, and I won't break my word."
I fought my tears back.
The love I believed in was a complete lie.
James proposed suddenly—because Ellen was sick and needed treatment.
We soon conceived, with normal checkups, but at seven months, I delivered a stillborn.
I blamed myself, but James held me, kissing and comforting me.
"Sweetheart, it's okay. We're still young. This child will come back to us."
"What matters most is that you rest and let your body heal."
His presence gave me strength—I found the courage to rise again and step out of the shadows.
But the next year, at eight months, another stillbirth. The doctor called it bad luck.
James played the doting husband, promising we'd have a healthy baby next time.
This time, it happened again.
Three years of guilt, self-blame, and fear—
All a scheme to cure Ellen, a trap set for me.
I slowly opened my eyes.
James's concerned gaze met mine.
"Sweetheart, you're awake? Feeling okay?"
"Need me to call the doctor? Is the incision hurting?"
This scene was the third time.
His acting had grown flawless.
If I hadn't overheard the truth, I'd have fallen for it again.
I touched my flat belly.
"I couldn't save this child either, James. Let's not try for kids anymore."
Panic flashed across his face.
He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a blessed charm and pressing it into my hand.
"Sweetheart, I climbed the hill to a church this morning, kneeling and bowing for this charm. It'll protect you and our next child."
"Don't give up, okay? Our next children will be healthy."
I stared into his eyes.
"James, my body can't take it anymore."