Chapter 3

Two months later, I found out I was pregnant.

Somehow the news reached my mom.

The very next morning, she showed up at our door carrying bags large and small.

"You're pregnant and didn't tell me?"

She complained as soon as she came in.

"The first three months are most critical.

You young people don't know anything.

I need to move in and take care of you."

Lucas and I exchanged glances, neither of us saying anything.

She just moved in like that.

Honestly, for that month, my mom truly devoted herself.

She varied the meals every day, handled all the housework, even insisted on washing Lucas's underwear.

Lucas tried to stop her a few times. She said "men's hands are too rough, they'll ruin the clothes," and insisted on doing it herself.

I thought maybe she'd changed.

After getting pregnant, Lucas accompanied me to every prenatal checkup, saying it was to monitor fetal development.

That day, after the ultrasound, he looked at the screen with bright eyes, smiling tenderly.

"Strong heartbeat, developing well," he pointed at the blurry little figure on the screen, "a healthy little girl."

"A daughter?"

He squeezed my hand.

"Are you happy?"

I nodded, a strange warmth rising in my chest.

A little girl, wearing pretty dresses, with little braids, like what I wanted to become as a child but never did.

Just as he finished speaking, my mom came out of the kitchen carrying a fruit plate.

"What daughter?"

Lucas answered with a smile.

"Mom, I said Aria's probably carrying a daughter."

The fruit plate landed on the coffee table with a dull thud.

My mom's expression changed.

She came over and sat down next to me, looking at me and asking each word deliberately:

"Did you get it checked? You're sure it's a daughter?"

"Not yet."

I said.

"It might not be accurate."

"Then it's not accurate."

She spoke decisively.

"Definitely not accurate."

Lucas looked confused.

My mom interrupted him, her voice rising.

"Your father looked too back then, said I was carrying a son. And the result? I gave birth to her!"

She pointed at me, her finger trembling.

I suddenly understood what she wanted to say.

"Mom."

I spoke slowly.

"You want a grandson?"

"I want one?"

She looked at me, her expression complex.

"Aria, I'm thinking of you. If your first child is a daughter, what will your in-laws think? Lucas won't say it, but will he really be happy inside?"

"Mom."

Lucas spoke seriously.

"I like daughters."

My mom acted like she didn't hear him and continued:

"While it's still early, get it taken care of. Rest up, get pregnant again next year."

I shot to my feet.

"Mom, what are you saying?!"

She was even more agitated than me. She stood up and grabbed my wrist.

"Aria, wake up! This is important, you can't be reckless!

The first child must be a son—that's the rule!

If you give birth to a daughter, you'll never hold your head up in your in-laws' family!"

"Our family doesn't have that rule."

Lucas came over, pulled my hand from her grasp, and protected me behind him.

"Mom, I've told you—our affairs are our own business. I like daughters. Having a daughter makes me happy."

"You're happy?"

My mom looked at him and let out a cold laugh.

"You're happy now. When you're old and everyone else has kids and grandkids running around while you have no one, will you be happy then?"

Lucas took a deep breath, like he was trying hard to restrain himself.

"Mom, I don't like hearing that.

Why can't a daughter carry on the family line?

Besides, having boys or girls is determined by biology, not by what we want."

My mom glanced at me but said nothing.