Three months into my pregnancy, my husband told me he wanted a divorce.

I rushed to find him—only to overhear him chatting casually with a friend, saying he'd been reborn. That he'd come back in this life for one reason: to make things right with his childhood sweetheart, Glenda Pruitt.

His friend was stunned. "Are you out of your mind? Your wife is three months pregnant. Aren't you afraid she'll get so angry she terminates the baby?"

Ivan Vance laughed it off. "Why would she? Stella went through ten rounds of IVF to get pregnant. There's no way she'd throw that away."

"Besides, after we divorce, she can just go back to her family. But Glenda—she has no parents, no one. After her divorce from that deadbeat, she's been raising her kid all alone. You know how hard that is?"

"I've already got it figured out. Once Glenda's son turns ten, I'll go back to Stella. It's only five years. No big deal."

I stood outside the door, perfectly still. My fingers moved almost on their own, dialing a number.

"Hello. I'd like to schedule an abortion. As soon as possible."

Later, Ivan deliberately scheduled our divorce filing for the same day he and Glenda would get their marriage license.

But this time—

That day, the man who had always been so lofty, so detached, came undone. His eyes locked onto my flat stomach with a wild, desperate intensity, and his voice cracked. "Where's my baby? Where's our child?"

"You promised—you said you wanted to have a baby with me!"

——

"Stella, sweetheart... are you sure you want to go through with this? After everything you went through for this baby..."

My mother's voice broke on the other end of the line, and guilt twisted through me like a blade.

She had been the happiest of anyone when she found out I was pregnant.

She knew what it had cost me. A full year of choking down bitter herbal medicine. Nine failed rounds of IVF. It wasn't until the tenth that I finally conceived.

The moment the test results came back positive, she'd wept with joy.

She believed that with a baby on the way, Ivan and I would settle into a real life together—that he'd step up, become a responsible husband, learn to put his family first.

It wasn't until today that I realized how terribly wrong we'd both been.

The phone rang, sharp and insistent. I answered numbly. Ivan's voice came through, cold and cutting. "Stella Abbott, how much longer are you going to drag this out?"

"Even if I can't divorce you during the pregnancy, the second that baby is born, I'll file immediately."

"Raising a kid costs money, Stella. And ever since we got married, all you've done is sit at home—eating my food, spending my money, doing a little housework and nothing else."

"No one is going to want a woman who just gave birth with a brat hanging off her. You have no income. When the time comes, you won't keep the child, you won't keep me—you'll have nothing."

Every word dripped with contempt. I listened as he reduced a year of everything I'd poured into our home to nothing—listened as he called my baby a burden—and felt something sharp carve through my chest all over again.

"Ivan." My voice was quiet. Just his name.

He went silent instantly.

"I agree to the divorce."

A beat of stunned silence. Then his tone surged with delight. "Really? Great—we'll go in five days."

He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice had softened into something almost gentle. "Stella, don't worry. I just want to take care of Glenda and her son. I won't cross any lines."

"Focus on the pregnancy. Have the baby safely. I'll come visit you and the child once a month."

"I already bought so many little outfits—I even picked out a name..."

His voice was bright, almost giddy. But my thoughts had already drifted far away.

I knew, in that moment, that I had truly let him go.

A soft chime broke the silence—a text notification. My gaze drifted down.

Dear Ms. Abbott, your abortion procedure has been scheduled for three days from now.

That night, I drifted into a fitful sleep.

I found myself standing in a frozen wasteland. The blizzard raged with terrifying force, the cold cutting straight to bone. My body went rigid, and just as I was about to collapse, a current of warmth bloomed from somewhere against my chest. A small, tender voice reached my ears.

"Mommy..."

I trembled and instinctively wrapped my arms around it.

The little orb of light was so small—I could cradle it in both hands—but it radiated a warmth so profound it nearly brought me to tears.

"I'm sorry..."

I whispered the apology, and then tiny, warm fingers gently brushed the tears from my cheeks.

The child's voice was impossibly soft, filled with longing and reluctance to let go. I reached for those little fingers, desperate to hold on, but the figure was already fading.

No!

My heart split open. I lunged forward, grasping at nothing, clawing against the emptiness—

"Baby!!"

I jolted awake, gasping. A dull ache throbbed low in my abdomen. Before I could gather my thoughts, a gentle male voice cut through the dark.

"Nightmare?"

Ivan sat on the edge of my bed, his face full of concern.

"What are you doing here?"

He gave a helpless smile. "This is our home. Why wouldn't I be here? Stella, you—"

A child's shrill scream cut him off.

The bedroom door slammed open, and a five-year-old boy barreled in like a cannonball. "Daddy!!"

It was Cooper Acevedo—Glenda's son. The boy had complained that not having a father made him a target for bullies, and Ivan hadn't hesitated. He let Cooper call him "Daddy" and raised the child as his own.

Cooper latched onto Ivan from behind. Ivan asked, "Didn't we agree you'd wait outside like a good boy?"

The child glared at me, his eyes brimming with hostility. "I was scared the bad lady would bully you, Daddy!"

Before anyone could react, he scrambled onto the bed, launched himself into the air, and brought his foot down hard on my stomach.

"Ahh!"

I'd barely slept the night before. My head was swimming, my reflexes shot. There was no time to dodge. His full weight drove into my lower abdomen, and a bolt of agony ripped through me. I doubled over instantly, cold sweat beading across my skin.

"Stella!"

Ivan yanked Cooper away and grabbed my shoulders, his face urgent. "What's wrong?"

I couldn't speak. The pain stole my voice, stole my vision—everything went dark at the edges. My abdomen seized with a twisting, wrenching cramp. I opened my mouth to cry for help, but a sharp female voice drowned me out.

"Cooper! Ivan—"

Glenda rushed in. She saw Cooper sitting on the edge of the bed, his face blank, and immediately scooped him into her arms. "Cooper, sweetie, what happened? Did you get in trouble again?"

Cooper burst into tears on cue. "I didn't do anything! I didn't even step on her, and she screamed that loud!"

Ivan's hands stilled on my shoulders. Glenda's eyes reddened instantly. "Ivan... maybe we should just forget about what we discussed."

"Cooper and I—we're just a widow and her boy. We can't compete with..."

Her voice cracked. Her expression crumbled into something wounded and pitiable, as though she'd endured a thousand injustices.

She didn't finish the sentence. She didn't need to. Ivan understood perfectly.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said immediately. "I told you I'd take care of you both. I don't go back on my word."

His gaze swung to me, cold as a blade. "Stella, are you so desperate to keep me that you'd frame a child?"

His fingers locked around my wrist and squeezed—so hard I heard the bones creak. But that pain was nothing compared to what was happening inside me.

The tiny life tethered to mine was slipping away. I thought of the dream—

Instinctively, I clutched at the hem of Ivan's shirt, my voice barely a whisper. "Help me... my stomach hurts so much..."

But Ivan's expression hardened. "Stop faking it. In your last life, you delivered a healthy boy just fine. Nothing's going to go wrong this time either."

The pain was so intense I couldn't form words. Maybe my expression was convincing enough, because Ivan wavered, half-believing, and moved to help me up.

But Glenda grabbed his arm. "Ivan, let me take a look. I've been through childbirth before—I know what I'm doing."

She pressed Cooper into Ivan's arms. He seemed about to say something, but the boy's whimpering cut him off. Ivan cradled the child carefully, drifting toward the window, patting his back and murmuring softly.

Glenda came closer. Slowly, she peeled back the blanket—and her eyes went wide.

Dark crimson blood was seeping from between my legs, soaking through my nightgown.

Then she smiled. "Oh my, it's nothing at all! Stella, you really are delicate, aren't you?"

Ivan's face went cold, just as she'd intended.

"I knew it, Stella. You were faking."

Glenda flashed a coy smile. "Isn't a wife meant to be pampered? She's just a little sensitive, Ivan. You should comfort her more."

"If she can't handle this much pain, imagine what labor will be like. You'd better book her an epidural in advance."

Then her expression shifted to something pitiful. "Though I've heard epidurals and C-sections can affect the baby. For Cooper's sake, I gritted my teeth and pushed through it all on my own."

Ivan scoffed. "Who's giving her an epidural? My son was perfectly well-behaved. No drugs, no interventions—smooth natural delivery."

Pride dripped from every word. A flicker of jealousy passed through Glenda's eyes.

By then, my consciousness was slipping. In the last moment before everything went dark, all I saw was Glenda pulling him toward the door.

Despair—absolute, bottomless despair—crashed over me.

When I opened my eyes again, the sharp sting of antiseptic filled my nostrils.

A wave of pain tore through my lower body, and I groaned before I could stop myself. Then someone seized my hand and held on tight.

"Stella!!"

Mom. Dad.

My mother's usually immaculate hair was in disarray, her eyes swollen and raw. The moment she saw me awake, her voice cracked. "Stella, it's okay. It's going to be okay..."

It took me a beat to register what was happening. I was on a hospital bed, being rushed down a corridor toward the operating room.

"Doctor, the patient is hemorrhaging!"

"The baby is likely lost. Where's her husband? We need his signature for the procedure."

"She's my daughter—I can sign! Doctor, please, you have to save her—"

"Per hospital policy, for an emergency procedure like this, we need the patient's husband present. There may be implications for her future fertility."

The doctor's urgent instructions, my mother's desperate pleas, my father's barely contained fury—all of it tangled together in a deafening knot.

I lay on the bed gasping for air, riding out wave after wave of searing pain. Then I heard my father on the phone with Ivan.

"Ivan Vance! Get yourself to this hospital. Now."

On the other end, Ivan's voice was tinged with surprise. "Dad? Is Stella throwing a fit about going to the hospital again? Ever since she got pregnant, she's been paranoid—always convinced something's wrong with the baby."

"It's just a pregnancy. A friend of mine was a few months along and still unclogging her own toilet, changing lightbulbs, hauling packages."

"Stella's just too high-maintenance."

Accusation after accusation. My father finally snapped. I heard him speak through gritted teeth: "If you don't get here right now, the Hayward family will never let this go."

Ivan had started his own company, but a significant portion of his connections had come through my father's introductions. On the other end of the line, there was a moment of hesitation.