Back then, I married Alric because I was pregnant. His first love, Seraphina, who had always had feelings for him, was working as an OB-GYN. She volunteered to oversee my pregnancy, claiming she just wanted to help.
I thought she had finally let go of him. I didn’t want to put Alric in a difficult position, so I agreed.
When I was seven months pregnant, Seraphina came to me looking somber.
She pointed at the ultrasound and said, “I’m so sorry, Lyra. You’re not carrying twins. One of them… one of them isn’t even a real baby. It’s a uterine fibroid—it has no limbs. And it’s already bigger than the fetus. If we want to save you and the other baby, we need to induce labor immediately.”
I nearly blacked out. I took the ultrasound results to several hospitals. Every single one gave the same answer.
Grief-stricken and terrified, I finally agreed to the surgery.
Yet, during the C-section, they take out two babies—both fully formed, with hands and feet.
I tried to hold them, but they were barely breathing. They were rushed to the NICU right away.
I was supposed to have a son and a daughter. However, Seraphina’s mistake, my daughter died shortly after birth.