Eu vi minha sogra na TV procurando uma “verdadeira esposa” para seu filho – Eu dei a ela a vingança que ela merecia

Eu achava que os comentários passivo-agressivos da minha sogra eram ruins, mas então eu a vi na TV nacional dizendo algo que me deixou paralisado em choque. O que veio depois? Vamos apenas dizer que ela mereceu.

Minha sogra, Charlene, nunca foi minha maior fã. Na verdade, ela está quase obcecada em me destruir desde o momento em que Holden, seu precioso filho, colocou aquele anel no meu dedo. Tem sido sutil — bem, na maioria das vezes.

Jovem mulher frustrada | Fonte: Midjourney

Jovem mulher frustrada | Fonte: Midjourney

Comentários sarcásticos sobre como Holden costumava ser muito mais feliz quando namorava sua namorada do colegial. Virou uma história que eu ouvia quase toda vez que nos sentávamos para uma refeição em família.

“Oh, Holden e Sarah eram perfeitos juntos. Você se lembra de como ela costumava fazer aquelas tortas adoráveis ​​para ele?”

Uh, não, Charlene. Eu não estava lá porque Holden e eu somos casados ​​agora.

Mas eu sempre fui legal. “Ah, tenho certeza de que Sarah era maravilhosa”, eu dizia com um sorriso tão apertado que doía. E quando ela “acidentalmente” me chamava de Sarah? Eu ria disso. Totalmente bem, certo?

Jovem e idosa almoçando | Fonte: Midjouney

Jovem e idosa almoçando | Fonte: Midjouney

Agora, avancemos para cerca de um mês atrás. Era uma manhã preguiçosa de sábado, e eu estava zapeando pelos canais, café na mão, apenas tentando aproveitar um pouco de paz.

Eu caio em um desses talk shows diurnos excessivamente dramáticos, você sabe, do tipo — as pessoas expõem suas roupas sujas por uma chance de quinze minutos de fama. Eu não estava prestando muita atenção até que vi um rosto familiar na tela.

Charlene, eu congelei.

Jovem surpreendida | Fonte: Midjourney

Jovem surpreendida | Fonte: Midjourney

“Isso é… de jeito nenhum”, murmurei, inclinando-me para mais perto.

Sim. Lá estava ela, minha amada MIL, sentada no palco, parecendo que estava prestes a despejar algum tipo de escândalo. Pisquei e esfreguei os olhos, pensando que talvez ainda estivesse meio dormindo.

Mas não. Era Charlene em toda sua glória. Toda arrumada como se estivesse indo ao Oscar, conversando com o apresentador como se fossem melhores amigos. Minha curiosidade foi aguçada, aumentei o volume e as palavras que saíram de sua boca quase me fizeram engasgar com meu café.

Mulher assistindo TV | Fonte: Midjouney

Mulher assistindo TV | Fonte: Midjouney

“Eu só quero uma esposa verdadeira para meu filho. Alguém que possa dar a ele a vida que ele merece”, ela disse.

Eu não conseguia acreditar no que estava vendo.

No começo, pensei: “Não tem como isso ser sobre Holden.” Talvez ela esteja falando sobre algum outro filho pobre dela. Mas então, o que ela disse em seguida estava além da minha imaginação mais louca.

Mulher idosa em um talk show | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa em um talk show | Fonte: Midjourney

“Meu filho é viúvo”, Charlene anunciou dramaticamente, fazendo uma pausa para causar efeito.

Eu quase engasguei. Viúvo? Do que diabos ela estava falando? Da última vez que chequei, eu estava bem vivo, respirando e, ah, sim — ainda CASADO com o filho dela!

Sentei-me no sofá, com o coração batendo forte.

“A falecida esposa de Holden”, ela disse com um sorriso triste falso, “era doce, mas honestamente? Ela não era uma boa companheira. Ela não sabia como cuidar dele do jeito que uma esposa de verdade deveria. Eu estava esperando que ele encontrasse alguém… digna da nossa família.”

Mulher idosa em um aparelho de TV | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa em um aparelho de TV | Fonte: Midjourney

Pisquei. Não é um bom par? ESPOSA ATRASADA?!

Olhei para a TV em total descrença. Essa mulher estava na televisão nacional anunciando minha falsa morte e arrastando meu nome pela lama. E para quê? Para encontrar um substituto para seu filho? Como se eu fosse uma caixa de leite vencida que ela pudesse simplesmente jogar fora?

Charlene continuou, sua voz ficando mais dramática a cada palavra. “Ele merece alguém que possa lhe dar a vida que ele realmente quer. Uma família. Filhos. Estou apenas tentando ajudá-lo a superar sua perda e encontrar a mulher perfeita para substituir aquela que ele perdeu.”

Mulher idosa em um talk show | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa em um talk show | Fonte: Midjourney

Eu estava tremendo. AQUELE QUE ELE PERDEU?

Eu não sabia se gritava, chorava ou jogava alguma coisa. Em vez disso, peguei meu telefone e apertei o botão de gravar. Isso era loucura demais para não ter provas. Eu precisava que Holden visse isso. Quando o segmento terminou, fiquei ali sentado por um minuto, olhando para a tela, apenas deixando a coisa assimilar. Charlene tinha ficado completamente delirante.

Naquela noite, quando Holden chegou em casa, eu nem disse oi. Eu apenas enfiei meu telefone na cara dele, apertei play e vi sua expressão mudar de confusão para fúria absoluta.

Homem irritado olhando para o telefone | Fonte: Midjourney

Homem irritado olhando para o telefone | Fonte: Midjourney

“Que diabos é isso?!” ele gritou, seus olhos praticamente saltando das órbitas.

“Ah, só sua mãe indo na TV para me declarar morto e encontrar uma nova esposa para você. Nada demais.”

“Ela fez o quê?” ele perguntou, atordoado.

“Vamos lhe ensinar uma lição que ela nunca vai esquecer.” Eu disse, sorrindo enquanto as rodas da vingança começavam a girar em minha mente.

E foi aí que o plano nasceu.

Casal tendo uma conversa séria | Fonte: Midjourney

Casal tendo uma conversa séria | Fonte: Midjourney

Na manhã seguinte, o cenário estava montado.

Holden pegou seu telefone e fez sua melhor voz de “filho devastado”. Ele respirou fundo e discou para Charlene.

“Mãe”, ele começou, sua voz embargada. “Eu tenho… eu tenho notícias terríveis.”

Houve silêncio do outro lado por um momento antes de Charlene perguntar: “Holden? O que há de errado? O que aconteceu?”

Holden fungou, fazendo soar como se mal conseguisse se segurar. “Você estava certa, mãe. Algo horrível aconteceu com minha esposa. Ela… ela se foi. Ela morreu.”

Homem emocionado ao telefone | Fonte: Midjourney

Homem emocionado ao telefone | Fonte: Midjourney

Eu podia ouvir a respiração aguda de Charlene de onde eu estava sentado, descansando no sofá. Holden a tinha fisgado.

“O quê?! Não! Holden, não!” ela gritou, sua voz imediatamente aumentando em pânico. “O que você quer dizer? Como isso pôde acontecer?!”

Holden limpou a garganta, tentando soar o mais triste possível. “É que… aconteceu tão de repente. Você mesmo disse, ela não era a combinação certa, e agora… agora ela se foi.”

Charlene choramingou do outro lado, sua voz falhando. “Oh, Deus! Isso é tudo culpa minha! Eu nunca quis nada disso! Eu—”

Mulher idosa ao telefone | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa ao telefone | Fonte: Midjourney

“Mãe”, Holden interrompeu, “preciso que você venha aqui. Agora mesmo. Por favor.”

“Estou indo! Estou indo agora mesmo!” Charlene gritou. Então a linha caiu.

Olhei para Holden, que estava tentando ao máximo conter uma risada. “Ela comprou”, ele disse, balançando a cabeça em descrença.

Eu levantei uma sobrancelha para Holden enquanto ele jogava o telefone na mesa. “Você tem um talento natural”, eu disse, mal contendo meu sorriso.

Coloquei meus pés na mesa de centro, perfeitamente calma e viva, esperando o show começar. “Claro que sim. Vamos ver como ela lida com essa pequena reviravolta na trama.”

Jovem sentada em um sofá | Fonte: Midjourney

Jovem sentada em um sofá | Fonte: Midjourney

Uma hora depois, ouvimos a porta da frente bater. Charlene irrompeu na sala de estar como um redemoinho, rímel escorrendo pelas bochechas, olhos selvagens de pânico.

“Onde ela está?! O que aconteceu com ela?!” ela gritou, olhando ao redor freneticamente como se esperasse me encontrar deitado em um caixão, envolto em preto.

Mas, em vez disso, lá estava eu, sentado no sofá, tomando chá e mexendo no meu celular como se fosse apenas mais uma manhã normal de sábado.

Jovem segurando uma xícara de café | Fonte: Midjourney

Jovem segurando uma xícara de café | Fonte: Midjourney

Os olhos dela se fixaram em mim, e a cor sumiu do seu rosto. Ela congelou, sua boca aberta enquanto seu cérebro tentava processar o que ela estava vendo. A princípio, ela pareceu confusa, como se não pudesse acreditar no que via. E então fez sentido.

Ela foi enganada.

Levantei minha xícara de chá, dando a ela um pequeno sorriso. “Bom dia, Charlene. Parece que você viu um fantasma.”

As mãos de Charlene voaram para a boca. “Mas… mas… você—” ela gaguejou.

Mulher idosa surpresa | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa surpresa | Fonte: Midjourney

Holden se levantou e a encarou, sua expressão fria e inflexível. “Você deveria pensar antes de abrir a boca, mãe. “Você pensou que sua pequena façanha de ‘viúva’ a faria desaparecer magicamente?”

Charlene piscou, seu cérebro tentando se atualizar. “E-eu não queria que isso—” Ela se conteve, engasgando com suas palavras.

“Não quis dizer para quê?” Holden retrucou, dando um passo à frente. “Para eu pensar que minha esposa estava morta? Para você ir à TV nacional e dizer que ela se foi, só para poder começar a procurar uma substituta?”

Mulher idosa conversando com seu filho | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa conversando com seu filho | Fonte: Midjourney

“Eu só estava tentando te ajudar, Holden!” Charlene gritou, suas mãos tremendo. “Você merece algo melhor! Você merece alguém que possa te dar—”

“Não.” A voz de Holden era fria, seus olhos duros como aço. “Você cruzou uma linha, mãe. Uma grande.”

Os lábios de Charlene tremeram. “Eu só queria o melhor para você! Ela é—”

“Ela é minha esposa”, Holden disse, interrompendo-a. “E se você não consegue respeitar isso, se você não consegue me respeitar , então você e eu estamos acabados.”

Os olhos de Charlene se arregalaram, seu corpo inteiro tremendo. “E-eu não queria nada disso! Você não entende—”

Mulher idosa conversando com seu filho | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa conversando com seu filho | Fonte: Midjourney

“Oh, eu entendo perfeitamente”, Holden disse, sua voz afiada como uma faca. “Você queria me controlar. Controlar a nós . Mas aqui está a questão — você não decide minha vida. Eu decido.”

Charlene começou a falar novamente, mas Holden a silenciou com um olhar frio. “E se você fizer algo assim de novo, eu serei a única a aparecer na TV… procurando uma nova mãe . Uma que realmente me respeite.”

A sala ficou em silêncio.

O rosto de Charlene se enrugou quando ela percebeu o quanto ela tinha errado. Ela olhou para mim, depois de volta para Holden, seus lábios tremendo como se ela quisesse dizer algo — qualquer coisa — que pudesse consertar isso.

Mulher idosa emocional | Fonte: Midjourney

Mulher idosa emocional | Fonte: Midjourney

Mas já era tarde demais.

Sem dizer mais nada, Charlene se virou e saiu cambaleando pela porta, enquanto seus soluços ecoavam pelo corredor.

Soltei um assobio baixo, balançando a cabeça. “Bem, isso foi… alguma coisa.”

Holden sentou-se ao meu lado, esfregando as têmporas. “Não acredito que ela fez isso.”

Eu ri, entregando a ele minha xícara de chá. “Bem, pelo menos ela sabe agora. Jogue jogos idiotas, ganhe prêmios idiotas.”

Ele pegou o chá, olhando pela janela. Então, com um meio sorriso, ele se virou para mim e disse: “Talvez da próxima vez, façamos um funeral de verdade. Para as ilusões dela.”

Casal se encarando | Fonte: Midjourney

Casal se encarando | Fonte: Midjourney

Se você gostou desta história, aqui vai outra que vai te prender: A sogra de uma mulher a importunava constantemente por ser dona de casa e não ter um “emprego de verdade” — mas depois da lição que ela deu a ela, a sogra foi embora chorando e nunca mais tocou no assunto.

Este trabalho é inspirado em eventos e pessoas reais, mas foi ficcionalizado para fins criativos. Nomes, personagens e detalhes foram alterados para proteger a privacidade e melhorar a narrativa. Qualquer semelhança com pessoas reais, vivas ou mortas, ou eventos reais é mera coincidência e não intencional do autor.

O autor e a editora não fazem nenhuma reivindicação quanto à precisão dos eventos ou à representação dos personagens e não são responsáveis ​​por nenhuma interpretação errônea. Esta história é fornecida como está”, e quaisquer opiniões expressas são as dos personagens e não refletem as opiniões do autor ou da editora.

I Hired a Doula to Accompany Me During My Delivery and Was Shocked to Find Out Who She Really Was – Story of the Day

I always dreamed of becoming a mother, and finally, my dream was coming true. But the joy of expecting a child was overshadowed by my husband’s unexpected business trip and the arrival of a stranger who turned out to be connected to my past.

My husband David and I had been preparing and planning for a child for a long time, but for many years, nothing worked out. We had tried everything we could think of, and the constant disappointment was heartbreaking.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

But eight months ago, everything changed. I finally saw those coveted two lines on the pregnancy test. This pregnancy was the best thing that had ever happened to me.

The joy I felt was indescribable. I knew I would never abandon this child as someone once did to me. Even though I was adopted when I was a year old, and my adoptive parents were wonderful, learning that I was adopted broke me at the time.

It felt like a part of my identity was missing. But now, I was eagerly awaiting our baby, ready to give them all the love I had received and more.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

David and I decided to have a partner birth, so I knew it would be a special moment for both of us.

One evening, when David returned from work, he looked very tired and worried. I tried to find out what had happened, but he only responded that everything was fine.

We had dinner in silence, and I felt he wasn’t telling me something. The tension in the air was thick, and I could see he was struggling with something.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“David, please talk to me. It’s hard for me to see you like this,” I said, my voice soft but insistent.

David sighed heavily and rubbed his nose, looking down at the floor. “Alright,” he began slowly. “I’ve been sent on a business trip in ten days. I’ll be paid very well for it, and I thought it was a good opportunity since the baby is coming soon.”

“That’s great. Why do you look so sad then?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Because they don’t know how long they’ll need me there. They said to expect anywhere from two weeks to a month,” David said, his voice strained.

“But the birth could happen during that time,” I said, placing a hand on my stomach, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me.

“I know. That’s why I’m in this state,” David replied, his eyes filled with worry.

“Then refuse,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I can’t. It will affect my future work, and we could use the extra money,” he explained, frustration evident in his tone.

“But you might not be there for the birth,” I said, my voice breaking slightly.

David got up and came over to me, hugging me tightly. “That’s why I found a doula for you. I want you to have support while I’m away,” he said, his voice gentle.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I want to give birth with my husband, not some stranger,” I said, dissatisfied.

“I know. But Martha is very good, and many people recommended her to me,” he tried to reassure me.

“I don’t like this idea,” I said, shaking my head.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I’ll try to return as soon as possible, but I want us to have some backup. Let me arrange a meeting with her while I’m still here. If you don’t like her, we’ll look for other options,” he offered, trying to find a compromise.

“I don’t want other options. I want you to be with me,” I insisted, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

“I want to be with you and the baby too,” David said, placing his hand on my belly. “That’s why I feel awful about having to leave. But we’ll get through this, and I hope to be back before you start giving birth, okay?”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Okay,” I said softly.

That evening, we just lay together, hugging, as if not wanting to let each other go for even a moment. The fear of him not being there for the birth was heavy in my heart, but I knew we had to face this together, even if it meant being apart for a little while.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Two days after that conversation with David, I was on my way to meet the doula, Martha. To be honest, I wasn’t very positive about this meeting because I didn’t fully understand how a stranger could support me during such an important moment.

I parked near the café where Martha and I had agreed to meet and went inside. The café was warm and inviting, with the rich smell of coffee filling the air. I looked around, not knowing which of the people there was Martha.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

Suddenly, a woman sitting alone at a table waved at me, and I realized it was her. She looked older than I expected, around 50, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. I approached and sat at the table.

“Hi! I’m Martha, and you must be Sheila,” she said, her smile warm and inviting.

“Yes, but how did you know it was me?” I asked, a bit surprised.

“You looked confused… and pregnant,” she added with a gentle laugh.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Right, I just feel like this belly has always been with me,” I said, laughing too.

“I understand, but believe me, you’ll feel such relief when it’s gone,” Martha said, nodding.

“I can only imagine,” I replied, trying to picture that moment.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Martha and I talked for two hours. She explained what her work would involve and how she could help me. She spoke about different techniques for pain management, relaxation, and support during labor.

I described how I envisioned the process, emphasizing the importance of a calm and supportive environment. It turned out our views were very similar, and we immediately found common ground.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Martha’s experience and empathy reassured me, and I was grateful to David for coming up with this idea.

As the conversation was ending, Martha asked, “Do you have any more questions for me?”

“Yes, I don’t want to be tactless, but do you have children?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“No, I decided to dedicate my life to medical school and then to working in this field, but now I’m here,” Martha said, smiling. “But I have given birth,” she added softly.

“Oh…” I said, sensing it might have been something very personal and possibly traumatic for her.

We stood up from the table, and Martha came over to hug me goodbye. As she hugged me, I noticed her looking at the large birthmark on my shoulder.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“In my teenage years, I thought about removing it because I didn’t like it, but now I consider it my unique feature,” I said, trying to make light of it. Martha looked at me, puzzled. “I’m talking about the birthmark,” I added for clarity.

“Oh, yes. It’s very nice,” Martha said, rushing off. I didn’t understand her behavior but decided to ignore it. Maybe she remembered she was late for something.

As I left the café, I felt a mix of relief and curiosity, wondering more about this woman who would be by my side during such an important moment.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

Time passed, and my due date was approaching. It was hard without David during this period, but Martha was very supportive. She visited almost every day and even helped with household chores.

Her presence was comforting, and she always knew how to calm my nerves. I felt like Martha understood me like no one else. It was as if we were related, and I couldn’t shake that feeling.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

David was supposed to fly back home that day, and I just hoped he would make it before our baby started to arrive. Martha and I were checking my hospital bag, probably for the tenth time, due to my anxiety.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything you need is there. If anything is missing, I’ll definitely bring it,” Martha said, her voice calm and reassuring.

“I know, I just want everything to go perfectly,” I replied, trying to hide my anxiety.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, dear. This is childbirth; it can’t be perfect. But your baby will be, and that’s what matters,” she said, smiling.

“Thank you, Martha,” I said, feeling a bit better. I went to the kitchen to pour myself some cold juice. As I approached the fridge, I felt something was wrong. I realized my water bag had broken. I immediately went to Martha.

“My water broke,” I said, panicking, my voice trembling.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

“Quick, sit down,” Martha said, helping me to the couch. Within seconds, I felt the first contraction and screamed.

“Breathe, remember how I taught you to breathe,” Martha said. But the pain was too intense for me to think clearly. “Breathe, Amber, breathe,” she said, and it snapped me out of my panic.

“What did you call me?” I asked, confused.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I meant Sheila, sorry, I made a mistake,” Martha said quickly. “But you need to focus on your breathing now.”

“When I was born, they named me Amber. But my mother abandoned me, and my adoptive parents renamed me when I was a year old, right after they adopted me. Don’t tell me this is a coincidence,” I pressed her, my heart racing.

“Sheila, it truly is just a coincidence,” Martha said, her face serious.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“What happened to the baby? You said you gave birth but have no children. What happened to that baby?” I asked, my voice rising.

“I gave her up for adoption,” Martha answered quietly.

“It was me, wasn’t it? I felt something was off. I noticed we were too similar,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Sheila, you need to focus on your baby now,” Martha said, trying to keep me calm.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“It was me?!” I shouted, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.

“Yes,” Martha admitted.

“And how long have you known?” I demanded.

“Since our first meeting when I saw your birthmark,” Martha said, her eyes filled with regret.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me all this time!” I cried, feeling betrayed.

“Sheila, I wanted to do the right thing,” she said, her voice breaking.

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see you,” I said, struggling to get up from the couch, grabbing my hospital bag, and heading to the car.

“What are you doing?” Martha shouted after me.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I’m driving myself to the hospital, and you can leave. I don’t want to see you,” I replied.

“That’s dangerous!” she shouted, but I ignored her. The contractions were coming fast, but I couldn’t think about anything other than getting to the hospital and being away from Martha.

I got into the car, feeling intense contractions but trying to drive anyway. The pain was overwhelming, making it hard to focus on the road. The drive to the hospital felt endless, each bump and turn amplifying the agony.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I kept trying to call David, but he wasn’t answering his phone. He was probably still on the plane. I prayed he would make it in time.

When I finally reached the hospital, nurses surrounded me with concern. They asked me many questions I couldn’t answer in my state. They quickly put me in a room, and a doctor told me I would give birth within two hours.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

My labor was progressing rapidly. David still hadn’t called me back, and the worry added to my pain. My whole body was in agony, and I felt like I couldn’t bear it any longer.

Suddenly, I saw the door to the room open, and Martha walked in.

“I don’t want to see you!” I screamed, my voice filled with pain and anger.

Martha calmly approached me. “I called David. He was leaving the airport and should be on his way here,” she said. “I know you’re angry, but I can help you until David arrives.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t need anything from you!” I shouted, but then another contraction began, making me cry out in pain. Martha breathed with me and applied a cold compress to my head.

I decided to stop arguing. I really needed support, even if it was from the woman who had abandoned me and then lied. An hour later, the pushing began, and the doctor said it was time to give birth.

“I don’t want to give birth without David!” I cried. “He should be here soon.”

“Sweetheart, the baby is the priority now, and we can’t delay,” Martha said gently.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney

“No! I want my husband by my side!” I pleaded, but they didn’t listen. The doctor and nurses gathered around me. “Please, wait for David!”

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a breathless David walked in. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he said, taking my hand. Relief washed over me as I felt his strong grip.

David and Martha supported and helped me as much as they could. Martha held my hand and reminded me to breathe while David stayed by my side, encouraging me.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my daughter was born. It was the best and happiest moment of my life. Her first cry filled the room, and tears of joy streamed down my face.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

A few hours after the birth, Martha came to me. David was asleep in a chair, holding our daughter.

“I’m sorry for abandoning you and lying, but—” Martha began, her voice soft and filled with regret.

I interrupted her, “I don’t want to talk about this now. But we will discuss it later, and you will explain everything to me.”

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

I didn’t want to spoil this day with unpleasant conversations. Martha nodded sadly and was about to leave the room.

“Can you bring me some cold juice? I didn’t get to drink it,” I asked her, trying to keep things light.

Martha smiled. “Of course,” she said and left the room. As I watched her go, I thought that now that I was a mother myself, maybe I could understand why she did what she did.

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels

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