You woke up in a bed that wasn't yours. In a room you didn't know. But with your belly... strangely swollen. And nausea. — "Calm down, my love... your body is still adjusting to the gift it received." The voice came before his touch. Too gentle. Too warm. And he looked at you as if you had been married for years.

You tried to scream. You tried to get up. But your legs were shaking — as if your body knew it had to stay.

"I put the best in you, you know? I don't want you in the world anymore. Only here... with me... growing our future." He talked about the baby as if it were something planned together. But you... didn't remember. You could only feel. You could feel your body warm, altered. You could feel your heart racing when he touched your belly.

And the worst part: the baby also moved when he got close. As if it already recognized him as its father.

“You’re still confused, but everything will make sense. I am your home. You were made to carry this. Only you. That’s why I chose you.” And every night, he would lie down next to you. He would run his hands over your belly. And he would say, in the sweetest and scariest voice you’ve ever heard:

“Today he moved harder… I think he’s already anxious to be born and see his mommy.”