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.

But just then, a woman's panicked cry came through the phone.

"Ivan! Cooper just threw up—"

"Let me see!" Ivan's voice turned urgent. Then, hurried: "Dad, you really need to stop coddling Stella. Something's come up on my end. I have to go. I'll talk to her tonight, I promise."

Click.

The dial tone echoed down the corridor. After a long silence, my father ground his teeth. "Do the surgery. Her husband might as well be dead. Whatever happens, I'll take responsibility. Give me the consent form—I'll sign it."

The anesthetic slid cold into my veins. My eyelids grew heavier and heavier, but my body felt lighter—weightless, almost—as if I were dissolving into nothing.

When I opened my eyes again, there was a moment of hollow confusion. My hand drifted to my lower abdomen. An hour ago, there had been a tiny life here, connected to me by blood and bone.

Now there was nothing.

"Stella."

My mother was watching me, her face creased with worry. I managed a weak smile. "Mom, I'm fine."

I later learned I'd been unconscious for two days and a night.

I reached for my phone. The call log was empty. The only activity was in my message thread with Ivan—a few cold texts, all sent that morning.

[Remember to go to the courthouse in three days. Divorce.]

[Still not answering me? You think ignoring this will make it go away? Stella, this divorce is happening whether you like it or not.]

[Sometimes I really wish Glenda and Cooper were my real family. Cooper is so well-behaved. I can't even imagine what kind of child our son would turn into with you raising him.]

I stared at that last message for a long time. Then, slowly, I typed: [Okay.]

I hit send. Without a second of hesitation, I deleted him from my contacts.

The fluorescent lights in the hospital were blinding. Clutching the miscarriage report, I walked alone down the corridor to collect what remained of my child.

The maternity ward was full of couples. Every expectant mother glowed with joy, their partners hovering close.

I held the small box in both hands. My heart felt as though it had been sealed inside along with that tiny body.

"Ivan, I really owe you this time." A sugary-sweet voice drifted toward me. I looked up—and locked eyes with them.

Ivan was holding Cooper's hand. Glenda clung to his arm.

Standing together, they looked exactly like a real family.

Ivan's gaze swept over me. His expression shifted the instant it landed on my flat stomach.

He strode toward me, irritation written across his face. "What are you doing here?"

Glenda smiled. "Are you here looking for Ivan? Goodness, Stella, you really do keep him on a tight leash. I just wasn't feeling well, so I asked him to come with me to the hospital. That's all."

Ivan's jaw tightened. "Is it really necessary to monitor my every move? You're pregnant—you shouldn't be running around hospitals for no reason. Don't you know that's bad for the baby?"

His lip curled. "That child must have the worst luck in eight lifetimes, ending up in your womb."

"Didn't I tell you? Our child is perfectly healthy—brilliant, even. Got into a top university at sixteen."

Right. In his version of things, in our past life, we'd had a smart, healthy child.

So how had it come to this?

I tightened my arms around the small box without thinking.

I'd once heard that children who die before their time become trapped in the cycle of reincarnation, never finding release. So I'd had a beautiful wooden box custom-made, carved with lotus blossoms, and arranged for a monk to chant sutras for forty-nine days.

I hoped he could have a next life. I hoped he'd find parents who would love him.

"Daddy."

A small, shrill voice cut through my thoughts. Cooper was staring at the box in my arms. His hand shot out to grab it. "I want that box!"

"Don't touch it!"

I slapped his hand away—hard—and clutched the box to my chest.