But the doctor didn’t stop there.
“And before you blame her again,” he said, steady and unflinching, “you should understand something. The sex of the baby is determined by the father, not the mother.”
Ethan’s grip tightened on the X-ray until it bent in his hands.
And lying there, broken and exhausted, I realized—
This wasn’t the end.
It was the beginning.
Part 2
Ethan leaned in close, his voice dropping into that fake gentleness he used when people were watching.
“Elena, tell them it was an accident. Think about the girls.”
The doctor didn’t move. A nurse lingered by the door.
Then another woman entered—mid-thirties, sharp-eyed, dressed in a gray suit.
“I’m Karen Mitchell, from Social Services,” she said. “No one is going to pressure you here.”
Ethan let out a dry laugh.
“This is a family matter.”
“That’s exactly why I’m here,” she replied.
Something inside me cracked.
Not courage. Not yet.
Just… a small fracture in the fear.
