Chapter 2

Brenda froze, then turned to look at me.

I braced myself on the bed rail, trying to sit up a little.

The pulling pain from my incision made me gasp.

"No need to fill in his name."

I took the pen and signed my name under 'Mother.'

"Leave the father's section blank. My mom is the only emergency contact."

The nurse looked at me hesitantly.

"But hospital policy states that only immediate family members registered on the visitor list can enter the NICU. If the father isn't registered, he won't be allowed in."

"He doesn't need to go in."

I handed the pen back to the nurse, my voice so calm it surprised even myself.

"He won't come anyway."

The nurse didn't ask anything else, gathered the forms, and left.

My phone vibrated again.

A voice message from Owen popped up.

"I have an investor meeting this morning, then I'm heading back to the office this afternoon."

"You stay home and rest, I'll bring home those western desserts you love tonight."

"Don't be mad anymore. Once the baby's born, you'll be too tired to cause trouble."

He didn't even know I wasn't home.

He had no idea that the child he thought "still had two months to go" was currently lying in an incubator, hooked up to tubes.

I didn't reply, simply turned off the screen.

Brenda tied the visitor wristband on my wrist.

It read: "Karen's Baby."

In my early pregnancy, when Owen first heard the baby's heartbeat, his eyes were red-rimmed.

He held my hand, pressing it against his face.

He said, "Karen, from now on, you and our child are the most important people to me."

He even bought a thick "New Dad's Guidebook" and solemnly wrote "Baby Countdown" on the cover.

But now, the countdown had ended early.

And the man who vowed to be the first to hold our child had given his private password and time to another woman.

I closed my eyes, but no tears fell.

I only had one instruction for the nurse.

"Please set my room number to private. Don't tell anyone."

"The baby can't be held yet, Mama can only look for five minutes."

The nurse pushed my wheelchair, stopping me outside the NICU's glass window.

The corridor reeked of disinfectant, and the cold air seeped through my oversized hospital gown, chilling me to the bone.

I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair, trying to straighten up and peer inside.

In the incubator, a tiny body was curled up.

Its skin was reddish-purple, and a thin IV was taped to its arm.

So small, even breathing seemed incredibly strenuous.

A transparent identification band was tied to its wrist.

It clearly read in black marker: "Karen's Baby".

The father's section remained blank.

I reached out through the glass, my fingertips pressed against the cold surface, as if I could feel its warmth.

My phone suddenly vibrated in my pocket.

I pulled my hand back and took out the phone.

It was a voice message from Eve.

"Karen, Owen's got a bad headache today. He fell asleep in the office."

"I gave him a hangover pill. Don't blame him, the client was really difficult last night."

"He's just trying to earn money for your baby's formula, you know."

In the background, Owen's slightly hoarse mumble could be heard.

"Eve, get me some water."

"Coming right up, Owen."

The voice message ended abruptly there.

I stared at the green bar on the screen, feeling a wave of nausea.

I had just fought my way back from the brink of death, and I couldn't even turn over without Brenda's help.