Seven months pregnant, I dozed off on the ride home after my prenatal checkup.
When I woke up, the baby inside me was gone.
I lost it completely. But my husband just laughed, his face full of that indulgent warmth. "Still half asleep? You were never pregnant, babe. What baby?"
I thought he was joking. I turned around and rushed back to the hospital.
The nurse told me I'd come in for a general physical, not a prenatal exam.
The OB-GYN shook her head too, said she'd never seen me before.
Even my own mother, eyes rimmed red, tried to talk me down. "Sweetheart, do you think maybe the stress of trying to conceive has been too much? Maybe we should see a psychiatrist."
But two hours ago, I'd seen that tiny life on the ultrasound screen with my own eyes.
How could it just vanish, like some kind of magic trick?
I refused to accept it. I called the police, demanded surveillance footage, dug through clinic records.
There wasn't a single trace that I'd ever been pregnant or had a prenatal exam.
Everyone said something was wrong with my mind. In a daze, I lost my footing on the rooftop and fell.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the checkup.
……
"Selina Summers, get up! You've got your prenatal appointment today. Can't be late."
Burton Weiss's voice drifted through the bedroom door, gentle as always.
I blinked awake, groggy, and instinctively reached for my belly.
I froze for two seconds. Then I shot upright and yanked up my pajama top.
Round. Full. The little one inside must have felt the jolt, because she kicked me.
My eyes burned instantly.
In my last life, it was today. Burton had driven me to the women's clinic for my checkup. Afterward, I'd gotten drowsy and napped in the passenger seat.
When I opened my eyes again, my belly was flat. The baby was gone.
My husband said I'd never been pregnant. The nurse said I'd come in for a routine physical. Even my mother said I'd been so anxious about conceiving that I'd hallucinated the whole thing.
I wouldn't accept it. I screamed and raged through the hospital until security hauled me off to a psychiatric ward.
Right up until the moment I fell from that rooftop, I still didn't understand.
How could a baby who had existed for seven real months just vanish into thin air?
They all said I'd imagined her.
But right now, she was right here inside me.
I pressed my palm to my belly, and the tears spilled over.
"Hey, what's wrong? Bad dream?"
Burton leaned halfway through the doorway. When he saw my red-rimmed eyes, he paused.
I looked at him, my emotions a tangled wreck.
In my last life, he'd been exactly like this. Warm. Attentive. The best husband in the world.
But after the baby disappeared, he'd insisted, without a shred of doubt, that I had never been pregnant. He'd even followed the doctor's recommendation and committed me to a psychiatric facility.
In this life, I didn't know if I could still trust him.
But no matter what, until I uncovered the truth, I couldn't tip anyone off.
"It's nothing. Just didn't sleep well." I forced the corners of my mouth up. "I don't feel like going out today. Let's reschedule the checkup."
Burton blinked, then came over and pressed his hand to my forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"
"Just tired."
"Alright, I'll call the clinic and push it to three days from now." He glanced down at his phone. "Wednesday works anyway. The same specialist will be on duty."
I stared at his profile, my mind in chaos.
This time around, if I skipped the appointment and stayed home, could I keep the baby safe?
But how long could I hide?
I had to figure out what really happened in my last life.
Why every single person had sworn, without hesitation, that I was never pregnant.
I closed my eyes and pressed my palm flat against my belly, feeling the small life stirring inside.
She wasn't a hallucination.
I had three days to find the truth.
Day one turned up nothing.
