As I watched them excitedly prepare for their baby's arrival, I couldn't help but touch my flat stomach and feel a bitter ache.
If my child had been born safely, they would be calling me "mom" by now.
When Rebecca was three months pregnant, Max couldn't wait to throw a lavish celebration. The party was held at the city's most luxurious hotel, meticulously decorated to show how much they valued this child.
Unlike when I found out I was pregnant—back then, I couldn't even reach Max by phone.
All my former friends attended the party, their faces glowing with happiness.
Three years after my death, they were all there to offer their heartfelt congratulations to Max and Rebecca.
Randy, who used to be my apprentice, was the first to raise a toast.
"Congratulations, Max and Rebecca! Here's to you having another baby next year and maybe three the year after!"
Rebecca, leaning against Max, smiled sweetly.
"Thank you! The doctor says I'm having twins!"
The room erupted in cheers.
"That's amazing! No wonder Max went all out with the party!"
"I can't wait to meet the babies!"
I stood there, frozen.
Life was so unfair.
Why did the person who ruined me get to enjoy such happiness?