Chapter 5

Nine months later.

In the early morning of early March, after six hours of labor in the delivery room, I finally heard crying.

Lucas held my hand, covered in sweat.

When the nurse brought the baby over, he looked at me first. Tears dropped onto the back of my hand.

"Aria, it's a daughter."

His voice choked, his eyes completely red.

"She's beautiful."

I looked down at that wrinkled little face and suddenly smiled.

How wonderful—a daughter.

We named our daughter Dot.

Lucas held her and wouldn't let go, clumsily learning the positions the nurses taught.

He kept murmuring "Daddy's little sweetheart," "Daddy's little princess"—he murmured so much even the nurses laughed.

The delivery had exhausted all my strength. My eyelids felt heavy as lead.

"Sleep."

He gently patted my hand.

"I'll go handle the birth certificate, then come right back to watch over you."

"Watch the baby..."

"Don't worry, I'm sitting right outside the door."

I nodded, watching him tiptoe out.

I closed my eyes, heard him carefully leave, heard my mom talking with the nurses in the outer room.

My daughter occasionally whimpered twice, like a little kitten.

Then everything went quiet.

When I opened my eyes again, the light in the room had changed.

The light coming through the curtain gap had shifted from golden to gray-white—who knows how much time had passed.

I instinctively looked toward the baby bed.

Empty.

The blanket was folded neatly, the sheets without a single wrinkle, as if no one had ever lain there.

My heart seized violently. I propped myself up.

"Mom?"

My mom walked in from the outer room, carrying a thermos.

"You're awake? Perfect timing. I made you chicken soup. Drink it while it's hot."

"Where's the baby?"

My voice trembled slightly.

She glanced at me, set the thermos on the bedside table, and said:

"Sent away."

"...What?"

"Sent away."

She brushed dust off herself.

"It's just a girl. What's the point of keeping her? I had someone find her a good family. Their situation's quite good—she'll have a good life."

My head felt like someone had punched it hard, buzzing.

I stared at her blankly, like looking at a stranger.

"Have you lost your mind?"

I heard my own voice, so shrill it didn't sound like it came from my own throat.

"That's my daughter!"

"What's so good about raising a girl?"

She frowned.

"Don't you understand? Give birth to a daughter and you think your mother-in-law will be happy? You think Lucas really doesn't want a son? I'm thinking of you..."

"Thinking of me?"

I threw off the covers. My legs were so weak I almost couldn't stand.

"That's my daughter! Flesh of my flesh! What right do you have to give her away?"

"I'm your mother!"

"You don't deserve to be!"

The moment those words left my mouth, I saw hurt flash across her face.

But quickly, that emotion was replaced by impatience.

"Enough, enough. Stop making a scene. Their situation's good—she won't suffer.

You rest, have a son in a couple years, and you'll thank me then..."

I grabbed my phone, my fingers shaking so badly I could barely press the screen.

"What are you doing?"

Her voice changed.

"Calling the police."

"Have you lost your mind?"

She rushed over to grab my phone.

"That's your own mother! You want to send your own mother to jail?"

I dodged her hand and pressed those three numbers.

"Yes, I'm calling the police."

I stared directly into her eyes, each word deliberate.

"Hello, I want to report a crime. Someone took my child and gave her away without my consent."

"This is human trafficking. Please come immediately!"