29/09/2025
Labor came in the middle of the night, and Evan sped me to the hospital right away. While we were gone, his mother Patricia asked Evan for the spare key "to get the house ready for the baby." I thought she wanted to do something nice—maybe set out flowers or fill the fridge. After our baby girl was born, we were at the hospital for two days. Patricia didn’t message me, only sent Evan a few mysterious updates like "Everything's going to be perfect when you come home." When we got home, I walked into the nursery. I stopped in shock. Instead of the sage-green walls, everything was navy blue. The floral curtains had disappeared. My late mother’s white crib was dismantled, pushed to the side. All handmade blankets and dresses had vanished. The nursery was a disaster. I was stunned. "Patricia… WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" She met my eyes, then Evan’s, and said coldly, "I did what you and your child deserved! It's because of this petty baby! I found out that it's not…" She broke off, crying.
