I stayed stuck in that spot with Mia held tight to my chest, still hurting badly from my recent surgery, while my mother-in-law, Helen, pulled my luggage right out into the hall.
Just an hour before that, I requested $30 to buy baby milk since anxiety had ruined my own milk supply and Mia was crying from hunger. I also needed some cash for feminine pads. My body was far from recovered, and I found myself standing inside my own kitchen begging for the right to feed my baby.
I once earned $130,000 every single year. But then Ethan and Helen talked me into quitting my job and becoming a stay-at-home mom as soon as I found out I was expecting.
“We will look after you,” Ethan swore to me.
I trusted his words. That might be because my mom and dad passed away when I was little, and I spent years wanting a real family so much that I confused empty words with actual security.
Everything shifted the moment we found out the kid was going to be a girl.
Ethan forced a grin at our reveal party. Helen questioned if the doctor’s results could be incorrect.
Later that evening, Ethan muttered softly, “Perhaps the next one will be a boy.”
