They had to remember me.
When I burst through the doors, the nurse was taking a pregnant woman's blood pressure. I grabbed her arm. "Nurse Lawrence, do you remember me?"
She flinched, staring at me blankly. "Ma'am, I think you have me confused with someone else."
"How could I have you confused? This morning, you helped me take photos—"
She thought for a moment, then shook her head, cutting me off. "I was on the ward all morning. I never came down to outpatient. Are you here for a prenatal checkup?"
I froze.
"Then what about the female doctor who did my ultrasound?"
She flipped through the shift schedule. "Every OB on duty in the outpatient clinic today is male. There's no female doctor."
My head went blank, like a bomb had gone off inside my skull.
A pregnant woman in the waiting area muttered under her breath. "Is something wrong with her?"
"Probably been trying to conceive so long she's lost it. My cousin's wife was the same way—three years of marriage, no baby, and she started imagining she was pregnant..."
"I mean, look at her. Her stomach's completely flat. Pregnant with what?"
I tore into the restroom like a woman possessed, yanked up my shirt in front of the mirror, and stared at my stomach.
Smooth. Flat. As if the last seven months had never happened. As if I had never been pregnant at all.
I leaned against the stall partition and slid down to the floor.
My mind was a void.
No. There had to be something I was missing.
My phone rang. Mom.
I fumbled to answer.
"Sweetie, did you get the ribs I sent?"
I opened my mouth, and a tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. "Mom, do you remember that I'm pregnant?"
Two seconds of silence on the other end. When she spoke, her voice was laced with confusion.
"Pregnant? I thought you and Burton were still trying. You haven't conceived yet, have you?"
My hand began to shake around the phone.
"Mom, I sent you maternity photos just yesterday. Don't you remember?"
Her confusion deepened. "No, honey. The only thing you've sent me recently was a phone call saying you were craving ribs. That's it."
I opened our text thread. Every photo in the conversation had vanished.
Her voice turned worried. "Sweetie, have you been overworking yourself? Don't put so much pressure on yourself. A baby will come when the time is right..."
I sat on the bathroom floor, cold seeping through every inch of me.
Was this life going to be the same? Was I going to fall into the same trap all over again, with no way out?
No. I refused to sit here and wait for it to happen.
I splashed water on my face and walked out of the restroom. A commotion hit my ears immediately.
"That's the woman—the one who's been causing a scene..."
"Someone call the police. She's clearly not right in the head..."
I followed the voices.
A crowd had gathered outside the OB clinic entrance. In the middle of it, Burton was explaining something to a nurse. The moment he saw me, he rushed over.
"Selina, where did you go? I've been looking everywhere for you."
I looked at him.
This man. My husband of five years. Always gentle. Always attentive.
Right now, his eyes were full of worry and concern.
I held his gaze. "Burton, do you really not remember me being pregnant? The checkups?"
He sighed and reached for my hand.
"Honey, let's just go home. You need to rest. Okay?"
"Answer me!"
He paused. Something shifted behind his eyes.
"Selina, you were never pregnant."
I closed my eyes. Of course.
"Ma'am, please stop disrupting the hospital." Two security guards approached. "We've received complaints that you've been harassing medical staff in the OB clinic. We're going to have to ask you to cooperate and leave the premises."
I took a step back.
People crowded around me, staring, whispering among themselves.
"What a shame. Pretty girl, but something's clearly wrong upstairs..."
"I've seen this before. They always end up in a psych ward..."
"Her poor husband..."
Burton stepped forward and addressed the security guard. "I'm sorry. My wife's been under a lot of stress lately. I'll take her home right away."
He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the exit.
I followed mechanically, my mind blank.
Then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of the wall calendar hanging in the outpatient lobby.
I stopped dead in my tracks, seized a passing nurse by the arm, and asked in a trembling voice, "The date on that calendar—is it accurate?"
The nurse flinched at my grip but answered anyway. "Of course it is. Why?"
So that's it.
I finally understood why my baby was gone without a single trace left behind.
