Chapter 1

After giving birth, I was paralyzed.

I couldn't do simple things like lying on my side, rolling over, or sitting up.

The medical term for my condition is "Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction."

Under my husband's cold, disgusted gaze, I fell into a deep depression.

In the middle of the night, I wanted him to wheel me to the bathroom. He just rolled over and muttered,

"You're so annoying. Why don't you just die? Why are you still alive, ruining my life?"

My tears soaked the pillow as I ended up wetting the bed.

The next day, I grabbed a paring knife from the bedside table and ended my short, miserable life.

If I had a second chance, I would never marry him, and I would never choose to be a mother.

Perhaps God heard my cries. After I died, I didn't go to heaven. Instead, I woke up right back at the beginning of my pregnancy.

……

"Honey, I’m so lucky to have you. You’re our family’s biggest hero now. Do you think it’s a boy or a girl? Will they look more like you or me?"

Zach squatted on the floor, pressing his ear against my belly. His voice was filled with the pure joy of a first-time father.

He looked up at me, his eyes shining with a bright, brilliant smile.

The scene felt incredibly disgusting.

"I don't want this baby," I said.

Zach's smile vanished instantly.

"You don't want it? Why? We worked so hard to get pregnant. How can you just say you don't want it?"

He stood up abruptly, his hand knocking over the water glass on the nightstand.

Without even bothering to clean up the mess, he glared at me.

"Say something! Why? It took us forever to finally have a baby. Why don't you want them?"

*Took us forever?*

He was the one with severe male infertility. This baby only existed because of the countless injections I took and the agonizing surgeries I endured.

The toll of IVF was far worse than I had ever imagined, and I had been terrified.

Back then, I had suggested we live child-free.

But he had said, "Chloe, my parents worked so hard to raise me. Their biggest dream is to have a grandchild. I can't disappoint them. Besides, you love kids too, don't you? I know you're suffering right now, but please, just bear with it. We've come so far. Once the baby is born, I promise you won't have to suffer another day. I swear I'll treat you and our baby like royalty for the rest of my life."

So, I went through several more egg retrievals.

The repeated hormone cycles accelerated my ovarian failure. On top of the physical agony, the psychological pressure was suffocating.

I became irritable, anxious, and plagued by insomnia.

I would scream at Zach over the tiniest things.

And after every outburst, I would hate myself for being so hysterical.

I wasn't supposed to be this person.

Whenever that happened, Zach would play the understanding saint and comfort me.

"Don't feel guilty. I don't blame you."

But he was the last person on earth who had the right to blame me.

Looking at the man who was now on the verge of losing his mind, I asked him one question.

"If I end up paralyzed because of this pregnancy, will you still love me and treat me the same?"

He froze.

Then, he rubbed his forehead, paced around the room twice, and let out a relieved laugh.

"Is that what you're worried about?"

"Of course I will!"

"Have you been reading those toxic relationship posts online again? That's just scaremongering. I've never heard of anyone getting paralyzed from giving birth. Don't be so anxious. This is just something every woman goes through. My mom was up and working in the garden the day after she had me, and she's healthier than I am today."

I didn't want to hear his babbling, so I repeated my question.

"If I end up paralyzed because of this pregnancy, will you still love me and treat me the same?"