I found myself wandering back to the hospital room, deep in thought. Matheo was there, holding a coffee thermos, concern etched on his face as he noticed I was only wearing the thin hospital gown.

“Your hands are freezing,” he said, taking them in his own, his voice tinged with worry. “Livia, you’ve just had a baby, and you need to stay warm while you recover. I hate seeing you like this.”

I glanced up at his face full of tenderness and warmth, yet an icy chill ran through my limbs. It was hard to reconcile this with the man who had, standing at the ICU doors, put our child’s life on the line.

He showed me a video on his phone. “Look, honey, our baby.”

The video displayed a chubby little infant in an incubator, surrounded by tubes, eyes firmly shut, breathing shallowly. Watching the fragile figure whose life hinged on machines, I felt nothing but emptiness.

Seeing my lack of reaction, Matheo placed a hand over mine. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ve already consulted with the doctor about scheduling the surgery. Everything will be alright for our baby.”

His gaze was filled with gentle reassurance, but I knew it was all a facade. He’d been deceiving me all this time. I recalled his conversation with the doctor at the ICU, and my heart squeezed tightly.

“Matheo, there’s no rush for the surgery. Can we wait a few more days?”

Unexpectedly, his demeanor shifted, his face hardening at my suggestion.

“Livia, why are you making this difficult again?”

“The baby’s been in the ICU for three days, unable to breathe independently. Delaying the surgery only prolongs his suffering.”

“Trust me, once the surgery is over, he’ll recover, and we’ll finally be a happy family.”

He pulled out a document from his bag. It was a consent form for the bone marrow donation, with his and Stephanie’s names printed boldly on it.

I bit my lip, turning away to hide my tears, though inside, a cold dread spread. Yet Matheo remained unaware, continuing on, “This is our chance, Livia, so don’t worry.”

“Our child will be fine.”

I forced a bitter smile. To Matheo, was our child truly so expendable, only a pawn in a transaction of life?

Just days after the surgery, the pain in my abdomen was almost unbearable, yet I couldn’t bear the thought of our child being treated so carelessly. I squeezed Matheo’s hand desperately, begging, “There’s no immediate rush for the surgery, just a brief delay.”

But he stood firm.

With a frown, he said, “Livia, you’re experiencing postpartum anxiety.”

“See the baby after the surgery.”

The doctor restrained me and administered a sedative before I could say a word. Darkness enveloped me swiftly, leaving no time for questions.

When I stirred awake, Matheo was at my side, his face alight with joy.

"Livia, the operation was a success!" he declared. "Our baby can finally have a chance at a normal life like other children!"

His excitement was evident, yet his smile was a dagger to my soul.

"Once Kori pulls through the critical stage, we can bring him home!" he added enthusiastically.

Holding his hand tightly, I nervously asked, "And what happened to the other child?"

Matheo's expression faltered as he acknowledged my reference to the child swapped with Stephanie Marshall's. He looked down, wiping imaginary dust from his knee, and spoke softly, "That child wasn't as lucky. He didn't survive the bone marrow extraction and passed away on the operating table."

His words were as casual as a whisper, trivializing the loss of a child's life with scarcely a pause. The pain in my heart twisted into a tighter knot.

Only then did the full gravity of the situation hit me. Matheo had knowingly ordered the doctor to sedate me, ensuring the donation surgery proceeded without my awareness.

Unaware of my inner turmoil, he proceeded to hand me our child's birth certificate. The name section was unmistakably marked, "Kori Marshall."

Seeing that name, I chuckled bitterly. Not only had he chosen our baby's name without my input, but he also seamlessly intertwined his affection for Stephanie into it. "Kori" was a reflection of his longing for "Stephanie."

Still basking in the thrill of their child having a name, Matheo declared, "Livia, our family's legacy lives on."

The image of their child growing up enveloped in love, while my own was forever frozen in time, pierced my heart like a blade.

After Matheo left, I unlocked my phone and logged into my alternate account. Only then did I check Matheo’s updates and realized that ever since Stephanie became pregnant, he had been using the excuse of working late to spend time with her every week. He never missed a single appointment for her prenatal checkups. Even when both Stephanie and I were due at the same time, he stayed by her side.

I'll never forget the moment I was in labor, fear coursing through me, and I reached out to hold his hand. But he pulled away, his voice cold and urgent. “Nina is about to give birth too. She’s more nervous and not as strong as you. I have to be with her.”

In my pain-clouded daze, I could only watch Matheo's determined figure walk away. It turns out that when someone doesn’t love you, they don’t even try to pretend.

Then came the day of my discharge. I waited from morning until noon, only to be met by Matheo’s assistant, Caden.

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Mr. Washington wanted me to let you know that Miss Stephanie is grieving the loss of her child. He took her and the baby back to the old family home first,” he informed me. “He specifically instructed me to pick you up and bring you home.”

Standing there in the biting wind, I shivered as if my heart was caught in a vise, unable to breathe. Just five minutes earlier, Stephanie had updated her status on Facebook. The video showed Matheo driving, focused on the road, while Stephanie cradled the baby in the passenger seat, her face lit with a sweet smile.

“Daddy’s taking us home,” read the caption.

Amid the flood of congratulatory comments, I even spotted a message from my own parents. “What a sweet grandchild, looks just like Nina when she was little.”

I turned off my phone, unwilling to see more. This place held nothing worth remembering for me. It was time to end this absurd love triangle once and for all.