He said, "Abigail, don't worry. I'll always take care of you. Even if you can’t stand for the rest of your life, it doesn’t matter to me. And our baby is already eight months along, I swear, once our child is born, I’ll devote myself completely to you both."
If I hadn’t overheard that conversation outside the study, I might have been touched. I might have believed him, let his words ease the ache in my chest.
But now, all I felt was cold.
"Oh, right," Scott said suddenly, his tone casual, like he hadn’t just shattered my world. "An expert from abroad arrived today. I met with him earlier, he says he can help with your delivery, but the process will be painful. You’ll have to endure a little more discomfort each day."
Then, as if it were nothing, he added, "You know how hard it was for us to conceive this child. We have to make sure the birth goes smoothly, no matter what."
At his signal, a doctor in a white coat stepped into the room, carrying a syringe as thick as my finger. My breath caught. I shook my head and looked at Scott. "I don’t need the injection. The baby will be fine."