I Lost My Baby, So I Stole Theirs

Natalie's POV

"I already got her to have the abortion. Don't worry. She's just that kind of person. If I say she'll agree, she'll agree. Super easy to fool."

If I didn't know this man, I'd just feel sorry for the "her" he's talking about.

But right now all I feel is how ridiculous this is. Because that "her" is me. This is what my husband Marcus sent to another woman.

The screen glows against my face as I sit on the couch, staring at Marcus's tablet. I was just trying to look up a recipe since my phone died. Then a message popped up. I clicked on it. And then I saw all of this.

The woman sent photos of a nursery. Pink walls, a white crib, stuffed animals in the corner. My finger hovers over the screen. I want to keep scrolling, but I'm afraid to.

I scroll up through their chat history.

"Did you arrange things with the doctor?"

"All set. She's going tomorrow by herself."

"You're not going with her?"

"Going with her for what? It's not like she's actually having it."

"Besides, I need to be with you. The baby's coming soon. How can I not be there?"

A few kissing emojis follow.

I toss the tablet onto the couch. Inside, I feel empty. I should've caught on three days ago. When I was about to send his suit to the dry cleaner, a crumpled note fell out of the pocket. Unfamiliar handwriting: "The baby's room is all ready. Can't wait for you to move in."

At the time, I thought it was from a coworker of Marcus's. He'd said he had an important client to deal with, might be home late. I even told him to take his time with work. Looking back now, what a joke.

That note is still sitting by the front door. I walk over, pick it up, and hold it to the light. The paper is nice quality. Has a faint perfume smell. Marcus doesn't mind spending money on her.

I tear the note into pieces and drop them in the trash. Back on the couch, I pick up the tablet again and scroll through more messages.

"Has she been stupid for the past six months? She believes everything you say."

"She's always been like this. As long as I tell her it's for her own good, she'll agree to anything."

"So what reason did you give her this time?"

"I said I haven't been feeling well lately, need some rest, so I moved to an apartment on the other side of town."

"Hahaha and she actually believed that?"

"Believed it. Even brings me soup every week."

Marcus really has been saying he needs to rest this past six months. Said the doctor recommended he live alone for a while to recover. I even asked if he wanted me to go to the doctor with him. He said no need, told me not to worry.

So I didn't worry. Every weekend I'd make soup, drive over an hour to deliver it. Ring the doorbell. He'd take the thermos, say thanks. Then close the door. I'd stand outside, hearing the TV from inside. Thought he was watching the news.

Now I realize there might've been other sounds too. Like a woman laughing, maybe.

I took hormone medication for a whole year trying to get pregnant. The doctor said I had hormonal imbalances, wouldn't conceive easily. Needed treatment.

Those pills messed with my emotions. I'd cry over nothing. I gained almost twenty pounds. When I looked in the mirror, my face was puffy, my waist thick. One day, he looked at me and frowned. After that, he came home even less.

I thought he found me fat. Even secretly went on a diet, trying to lose weight. Then I got pregnant.

The day I went to the hospital for confirmation, I went alone. The doctor said congratulations, the baby's healthy. I texted Marcus.

"I'm pregnant."

He replied, "Got it."

Then, "Talk later, I'm in a meeting."

I waited all day. He never contacted me again.

The next day, he called. Said he'd gotten a checkup recently and found out he has some kind of "hereditary disease" in his family. Worried it might pass to our child. Told me to terminate the pregnancy. Said he couldn't let a kid be born suffering.

His voice was gentle. Like when he proposed.

I cried and finally said okay.

The procedure was this morning. A private clinic. Marcus made the appointment for me. Said he'd go with me.

Then this morning, he sent a text.

"Emergency meeting came up. You'll have to go alone."

"Don't worry, it'll be over fast. I'll come home tonight and keep you company."

I drove to the clinic. The nurse asked, "Where's your family?"

I said, "He's busy."

She glanced at me but didn't ask anything else.

Lying on the operating table, the anesthesia needle goes into my arm. Cold liquid flows through my veins. I feel drowsy. My eyelids get heavier and heavier.

In my last moments of consciousness, I think about what Marcus said. It was all lies. He just didn't want my baby. What he wants is another woman's.

When I wake up, the procedure's already over. The nurse hands me a cup of water. "Rest a bit and you can go."

I sit in the recovery room chair. My stomach hurts a little, but not too bad. Lighter than I expected, probably because the anesthesia hasn't completely worn off.

I take out my phone and send Marcus a message.

"It's done."

He replies quickly.

"Thank you for your hard work. Get some rest. I'll be home later."

I stare at that phrase "thank you for your hard work." Suddenly it feels absurd. Like he's thanking me for completing a task for him. Not for losing our child.

On the drive home, I pass a restaurant downtown. Marcus took me there two years ago. I still remember what he said then. "When we have a kid, we'll bring him here all the time. Let him know from early on what the good life is."

I'd smiled and said okay.

Now that child is gone. Those promises are gone too.