I stumbled and opened the door to the baby's room, holding those tiny clothes and curling up in the corner.
At this time, they should be playing with the baby and making him laugh, right?
Brian, who never posts on Instagram, even updated a post.
In addition to the baby, the picture also showed a large urine stain on the front of the suit.
[Thank you for the first gift from the baby!]
That suit is Brian's favorite, and he only wears it on important occasions.
I touched the urn containing the baby's ashes, but my vision blurred and I couldn't focus.
My phone rang, it was Brian calling.
"Is your stomach still hurting?"
"No, it's not hurting anymore."
"Hmm... I consulted Jessica at the confinement center and she said the stomachache might be because you just felt fetal movement and it will take some time to adapt. It's not a big deal."
It turns out that when I had a miscarriage and cried in despair, in Brian's eyes, it was just "not a big deal".
The confinement center is only ten minutes away from home, and he didn't even want to leave for a moment to come back and see me.
Grace, this is the man you insisted on marrying in the first place. I thought.
This is your retribution.