When I saw the two lines on the pregnancy test, I couldn’t help but cry out in the kitchen. I called Kevin right away and he left work early to come home. We embraced at the front door, both of us in tears. 10 years since we’d started dating in college. 5 years since we got married. This was the child we’ve been waiting for.

 Given our professions, I’m a graphic designer and he’s an architect. We both love making detailed plans. But we decided to keep the baby’s gender a surprise until birth. Boy or girl, this would be our precious child. That’s what I believed. When I announced the pregnancy, my mother-in-law Diane paused for a moment on the phone before saying, “Congratulations, Hannah.

 I hope you have a healthy baby.” Her voice was polite, and on the surface, she seemed happy. But then came the word she always added, “I hope it’s a boy.” The first time I let it pass. But as it was repeated, a small thorn lodged itself in my heart. When I mentioned it to Kevin, he smiled rofully and said, “Mom’s from the old school.

 She doesn’t mean anything by it.” “I suppose so.” I nodded. “Maybe that’s just how some people think.” Diane was polite on the surface, always bringing a gift when she visited. She’d never been directly unkind to me. So, I pushed down the discomfort inside me. Labor began 3 days before my due date at 5:00 in the morning. When the contractions became regular, Kevin rushed to get the car ready.

 During the drive to the hospital, he squeezed my hand over and over. It’s okay. I’m right here with you. I could hear the tremor in his voice. I was scared, too. But at the same time, my heart was full knowing we’d soon meet our baby. The time in the delivery room was long and painful, but Kevin stayed by my side the whole time. Just a little more. You can do this.

 The voices of the doctors and nurses seemed far away. Then, when I gave that final push, a tiny cry filled the room. It’s a girl, the doctor announced with a smile. The nurse placed the cleaned baby on my chest. So small, so warm. I never knew such a precious being could exist. I couldn’t stop crying. Kevin was crying, too.

 How about the name Grace? I said, and he nodded over and over. It’s perfect, Hannah. A few hours after the birth, Diane came to visit the hospital room. She wore a white cardigan, dressed elegantly as always. The moment she opened the door and saw the baby, her expression clouded for just an instant. “A girl,” she said. Her voice was flat, emotionless. She quickly put on a smile. “She’s adorable, Hannah. You did well.

” But the smile only reached the lower half of her face. Her eyes weren’t smiling. I was exhausted, but I still noticed. Kevin seemed to notice his mother’s demeanor, too, and looked away. Later, when we were alone, he said, “I think mom’s just tired.” I couldn’t find words to respond. I just gazed at Grace in my arms.

 This child was undoubtedly a life to be celebrated. So, why did anxiety spread through my chest? That night, gazing at the city lights through the hospital room window, I try to reason with myself. I must be overthinking this. My hormones are just out of balance after giving birth, making me emotional.

 Diane was just surprised and she’ll come to love her granddaughter soon enough. That’s what I told myself. The next morning, I woke to sunlight streaming into the room. My body was heavy and sore, but my heart felt light. In the bassinet beside me, Grace was moving her tiny hands. I still couldn’t believe it.

 This child had been inside me, and now she was here. When it was time to nurse, the nurse gently guided me. At first, I panicked when it didn’t go smoothly. But watching Grace’s little mouth search for my nipple, tears naturally flowed. Kevin had taken a week off work. Every morning at 9:00, he’d arrive at the hospital and stay until 8 at night.

 He tried his best at diaper changes and bathing, learning from the nurses. His movements were clumsy, but his expression was earnest. Watching him, I thought how truly grateful I was that we’d become a family. Messages poured in from friends and colleagues. Congratulations. Can’t wait to meet her. When I sent photos, everyone said she was beautiful.

 My supervisor sent warm words. Don’t rush. Take your time resting. I was happy. I was scheduled to be discharged in 3 days. And by then, I wanted to be better at nursing and perfect at diaper changes. But a shadow began to fall over this happy time on the second day after the birth.

 Diane came to the hospital room around 2:00 in the afternoon. She came everyday. “I’ll help you,” she said. But when she picked up the baby, her expression was stiff, an awkward smile, as if she were fulfilling an obligation. Looking at Grace, her eyes held none of the joy a grandmother should feel. On the third day’s visit, Diane sat in a chair and said to me, “Next time, a boy.

” I froze, still holding my nursing pillow. Next time. Of course, we need an heir. Kevin comes from a long line of architects. We must have a boy. I didn’t know how to respond. Grace had only been born 3 days ago. Wasn’t she going to celebrate this child’s existence? Kevin stood by the window looking outside.

 He said nothing to his mother’s words. That night after Grace fell asleep, I spoke to Kevin. Honey, about your mom. He looked at me with a tired face. What? Well, it seems like she’s not happy about Grace. Kevin sighed. Mom’s old-fashioned. She doesn’t mean anything by it. But Kevin, Grace was born a girl. Is that something to be denied? My voice was shaking. He scratched his head.

 It’s not like that. But mom grew up in a different era. There was a culture that emphasized things like heirs and succession. I was at a loss for words. But that’s I tried to have a conversation, but Kevin couldn’t find the right words. I realized he didn’t want to criticize his mother.

 I understood that, but at the same time, I wanted him to protect our daughter. this tiny life. I felt a small crack form between us for the first time. On the morning of the fourth day, Diane came again. This time, she brought a gift. An assortment of expensive fruit. This is good for you. Eat it. Thank you. I expressed my gratitude, but she had another purpose.

 She approached the bassinet and looked down at Grace. She’s small. Well, yes, she’s still a newborn. Diane fell silent as if thinking about something. Then she said, “You need to start taking care of your body now for the next pregnancy. Nutrition is important for having a boy.” My hands trembled. “It’s only been 4 days since I gave birth.

” Diane looked at me. “Yes, but you should plan ahead. With only a girl, Kevin’s family line will end. I couldn’t speak. A mix of anger, sadness, and above all, fear gripped my chest. Diane seemed to take my silence as agreement and nodded with satisfaction. Now that that’s settled, I’ll help, too. Next time, a boy for sure.

 After she left, I cried. I held Grace close and quietly wept. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This child had done nothing wrong. She’d just been born. Why did we have to go through this? That night, I was exhausted. The damage from childbirth, the fatigue from nursing, and the pressure from Diane, everything combined, and my body had reached its limit.

 After confirming Grace was asleep, I lay down in bed, too. I fell into a deep, deep sleep. I don’t know how much time passed. I suddenly woke up looking at the clock. It was just past 3:00 in the morning. I thought I’d heard something. An alarm sound from far away, but distinct. An electronic sound coming from the newborn nursery.

 The hallway suddenly became noisy. Footsteps of nurses. Someone running. Voices calling for a doctor. I tried to get up, but my body was heavy. My consciousness was hazy with fatigue. It must be about another baby. Grace is sleeping beside me. That’s what I thought. But the unease wouldn’t go away. Something bad is happening. That premonition surrounded me. I need to get up. I need to check.

Even as I thought this, my consciousness sank back into deep sleep. Looking back later, I wish I’d gotten up then. I wish I’d gone into the hallway to see what was happening. But at that moment, I didn’t have the strength left. I woke to a blaring alarm. At first, I thought it was a sound in a dream, but it wasn’t.

 It was real, and it was coming from nearby. I bolted upright. I looked at the bassinet beside me. Grace wasn’t there. My heart froze. Where? Where is she? The door burst open and a nurse rushed in. Her face was pale. Hannah, the baby. The baby is in cardiac arrest. It took me several seconds to understand those words. Cardiac arrest. Grace. My daughter. No, that’s wrong.

 That can’t be. She was fine last night. She was moving her little hands, breathing properly. The nurse grabbed my arm. Come with me right now. I ran out into the hallway barefoot. The door to the newborn nursery was thrown open, and multiple voices came from inside. The doctor’s commanding voice, the nurse’s tense responses, and the sounds of medical equipment.

 At the entrance to the room, I stood frozen. On a small treatment table lay Grace. Several doctors and nurses surrounded her. One doctor had his hands on her tiny chest, compressing rhythmically. Chest compressions. Another doctor was giving mouth to mouth with a small mask. A flat electronic tone echoed from the monitor. No, no, no, no. I was screaming without sound.

Someone grabbed my shoulders, trying to pull me back into the hallway, but I resisted. Let me go. Let me touch my daughter, please. Hannah. The voice from behind me was Kevin’s. I didn’t know when he’d arrived. He embraced me. I collapsed against his chest, sobbing. Help her. Please help her.

 But I didn’t even know who I was begging. I lost all sense of time. Was it 1 minute, 10 minutes, and eternity? The doctor’s movements didn’t stop. Chest compressions, artificial respiration, medication administration. Grace’s small body shook with each procedure. Then suddenly, the sound from the monitor changed. Heart rate restored.

The doctor’s voice rang out. The strength left my knees and I sank to the floor supported by Kevin. She’s alive. Grace is alive. But along with relief, terror washed over me. Why? Why did this happen? The doctors moved frantically and Grace was rushed to the intensive care unit. We were left in the hallway.

Kevin leaned his back against the wall, covering his face with both hands. I sat on the floor unable to stop trembling. How much time passed. The attending physician came to us. His expression was grave. I need to speak with you both. Please come to another room. We were led to a small consultation room.

 The doctor didn’t even suggest we sit down. He looked straight at us and said, “Your daughter’s cardiac arrest was not a natural occurrence. Not natural. I tried to understand what those words meant. Then what? The doctor continued in a heavy tone. There are signs of suffocation. It’s highly likely someone intentionally stopped your daughter’s breathing.

Someone intentionally. My mind went blank. Kevin shouted. What are you saying? That’s impossible. The doctor remained calm. We checked the hospital’s security cameras. We need you both to see the footage. Video footage appeared on a tablet placed on the table. Surveillance camera footage from the newborn nursery.

 The time was displayed in the corner of the screen. 2:13 a.m. A figure entered the dark room. The person slowly, as if familiar with the place, approached a bassinet. Grace’s bassinet. My breathing stopped. The person looked down at the baby, then reached out a hand. I stared intently at the screen. Please be wrong. Please.

 But in the next moment, the person’s face turned toward the camera. The profile clearly visible. Diane. It was my mother-in-law. My knees gave way. I put my hands on the floor, nausea rising. No, that’s wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. This is a nightmare. I need to wake up. The sound of Kevin’s fist hitting the wall. Once, twice, three times. Blood stained the wall. The doctor tried to stop him, but Kevin shook him off.

It’s a lie. A lie. Mom wouldn’t do that. His voice was like an animal’s howl. The footage continued. Diane checked her surroundings, then reached toward Grace’s face. Her hand covered the small mouth and nose. Grace’s little hands and feet moved. She was struggling, suffering. But Diane didn’t remove her hand.

 About 30 seconds later, Grace’s movement stopped. Diane removed her hand and looked down at the baby. Then, as if nothing had happened, she left the room. Immediately after, the monitor alarm began to sound. Nurses rushed in. Resuscitation began. The footage stopped. The consultation room was wrapped in silence. The only sound was my sobbing.

 Kevin was still staring at the wall. Tears streamed from his eyes. The doctor said quietly, “We’re calling the police. The security camera footage will be submitted as evidence. Is your mother-in-law currently in the hospital? Kevin answered. His voice trembled. I saw her in the lobby earlier.

 The doctor nodded and left the room. Kevin and I were left alone. We were both at a loss for words. I didn’t know what to say. There are no words in this world for a situation like this. Kevin finally spoke. I’m sorry, Hannah. I’m so sorry. He sank to the floor, holding his head. My mother, to our daughter. He couldn’t finish. I approached him and touched his shoulder with trembling hands. It’s not your fault. But I couldn’t say anything more.

I couldn’t say I forgave him either because his mother had tried to kill my daughter. Voices came from the hallway. Some commotion. What did I do? Let me go. It was Diane’s voice. She seemed to be being restrained by security guards. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just came to check on my grandchild. Kevin stood up.

 He started toward the door but stopped midway. I realized he couldn’t face his mother. He pressed his forehead against the wall and cried quietly. I just sat there. Grace is alive. That was the only consolation. But what happens now? What should we do? I didn’t know anything. Only one thing was certain. I will never forgive Diane.

Whatever she says, whatever reason she might have, I will absolutely never forgive the person who tried to kill my daughter. That resolve alone kept me from completely falling apart. The police arrived 30 minutes later. Two detectives came to the hospital and Diane was handcuffed in the hallway. Kevin and I watched from the window of the consultation room. Diane was resisting.

I didn’t do anything. This is a mistake. Her voice was shrill and hysterical. “Let me see my son. Call Kevin.” Kevin looked away from the window. His face was deathly pale, as if his soul had been drained. “Don’t you need to go?” I asked. He shook his head. “I can’t right now.

 If I see my mother’s face, I don’t know what I’ll do.” The detective came to us, an older man with kind eyes. I know this is difficult for both of you, but I need to ask you some questions. We nodded. Did you notice anything beforehand that suggested your mother-in-law might harm the baby? At the detective’s question, I struggled to answer.

 Could I say I’d noticed that sense of unease, the repeated words about wanting a boy? But I never thought it would lead to murderous intent. Kevin answered, “My mother has always been fixated on the idea of an heir. But I never imagined never imagined she’d do something like this.” His voice shook. The detective quietly took notes.

 “The security camera footage is conclusive evidence. The hospital is cooperating fully.” The detective tried to reassure us with those words. But how could we be reassured? Grace was still in intensive care. I hadn’t even been able to see my daughter’s face. After the detective left, a nurse came and said, “You can see the baby now.

” I practically ran to the intensive care unit. Kevin followed behind. Grace was in a small incubator, connected to many tubes and monitors, but her chest was rising and falling. She was breathing. She was alive. I placed my hand on the incubator. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Mommy couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t stop crying. That night, we stayed at the hospital.

 Kevin sat in a chair, staring at Grace all night. I sat beside him, dozing off occasionally, then waking up. I had nightmares. The image of Diane’s hand covering Grace’s face replayed in my mind over and over. The next morning, the detective called. The suspect has confessed. Kevin answered the phone and put it on speaker.

 In the interrogation room, Diane had eventually admitted everything. We don’t need a girl in this family. My son needs an heir. I had to make her have a boy. The detective’s voice was heavy. That’s what she’s stating. The color drained from Kevin’s face. Don’t need air. As if a grandchild were some kind of object, he clenched his fists. The detective continued.

 “It’s an extremely selfish motive. We’ve never seen a case like this either. We’re at a loss for words.” After hanging up, Kevin was silent for a long time. Then suddenly he stood up and went into the hallway. I followed him. He was punching the wall in the emergency stairwell landing. Why? Why? Why? Blood came from his fist.

Kevin, stop. I embraced him. That’s when an unfamiliar woman appeared. Around 50, she resembled Diane a bit. Excuse me, she called out. Kevin, it’s me, your Aunt Eleanor. Kevin looked up. Aunt Eleanor. She was Diane’s sister. I need to talk to you about what my sister did. Her expression was serious. We returned to the consultation room again.

 Eleanor sat down and took a deep breath. I heard what my sister did. I couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, I thought, I should have known. She lowered her eyes. What do you mean you should have known? I asked. Eleanor looked at us. My sister was a victim, too. The story she began to tell was shocking.

 After marriage, Diane had gotten pregnant three times, but they were all girls. Kevin’s paternal grandmother, Richard’s mother, said they didn’t need girls and forced abortions. Three times Diane cried and begged, but her husband Richard sided with his mother. Back then, wives had no rights. Eleanor wiped away tears.

 On the fourth pregnancy, they finally confirmed it was a boy. That was you, Kevin. My sister gave birth to you and was finally accepted in the family. But she never forgot about the three daughters she lost until that point. I gasped. Diane had been a victim, a mother who’d lost three daughters.

 But Eleanor continued, “But that doesn’t give her the right to do the same thing to her grandchild. My sister went from victim to perpetrator. That’s not forgivable.” Kevin held his head in his hands. So, mom was suffering all this time. But Eleanor looked at her nephew with stern eyes.

 Your mother tried to inflict on an innocent baby the same suffering that was done to her. That’s not a victim’s right. It’s just abuse. Those words seem to change something in Kevin. He stood up. I’m going to see her. I need to tell mom something in my own words. 3 days later, Kevin was in a visiting room at the detention center. I didn’t go with him. This was between him and his mother.

 But when he came back, he told me everything that happened. Diane sat behind the glass partition. Kevin, you understand, don’t you? I did this for you. Her eyes were bloodshot. To give you an heir, a boy. To continue this family line. Kevin was calm. He told me. What I wanted wasn’t an heir. It was a family.

 That’s what he told his mother. You were a victim. Mom, grandmother took three daughters from you. That must have been truly painful. But you used that as an excuse to try to kill my daughter. That’s absolutely unforgivable. Diane broke down crying. But I suffered too. Three of them. They killed three of them. My daughters. Kevin, you don’t understand this suffering.

 I do understand, Kevin answered. But mom, you tried to pass that suffering on to the next generation. I’m stopping it here. This cycle ends with my generation. I’m never seeing you again. Goodbye, Mom. Diane screamed and cried. But Kevin left the visiting room without looking back. That was the last time, he told me. I embraced Kevin. That must have been hard. He nodded.

 But it was the right thing to do. We have to move forward for Grace’s sake. That resolve supported us. No matter how difficult, we would move forward to protect our daughter. We understood that this was our responsibility as parents. Diane’s trial was scheduled to begin in a few months. Attempted murder. A prison sentence was inevitable. But that wasn’t our concern anymore.

 We have a family to protect, and we’ve decided never to let anyone threaten this tiny life again. We decided to live thinking only about that. A year has passed since then. Today is Grace’s birthday. In the living room of our new home, we’re throwing a small party. Pink and white balloons, a homemade birthday cake.

 We only invited close friends, a small warm gathering. Grace has just started toddling around and is happily walking around the living room. Miraculously, she has no lasting effects and is growing up healthy. Even the doctors were amazed. They said it was really fortunate that the resuscitation came in time. We moved 6 months ago.

 We left the town with that hospital and moved to a small town in a neighboring state. Kevin transferred to a new architecture firm and I work from home as a freelance designer. We started everything over from scratch. It hasn’t been easy. Kevin sometimes suffers remembering his mother. There are times when he wakes up in the middle of the night and sits alone in the living room.

 At those times, I sit beside him and hold his hand. Words aren’t necessary. Just being there is what matters. The trial ended 3 months ago. Diane received a prison sentence for attempted murder. 12 years until the very end in court. She insisted she wasn’t wrong. But the moment the verdict was read, she broke down crying. We weren’t in the courtroom.

 We only heard the result through our lawyer. I heard that no one visits her. Kevin has never gone to see her. Aunt Eleanor said she’s cut ties with her sister. Diane is now spending lonely days in prison. Eleanor visits us sometimes. She’s very affectionate with Grace. When she came last week, she told me, “My sister was a victim.

” But we can’t allow victims to become perpetrators. I’m truly glad you two broke the cycle. Those words stayed deep in my heart. Yes, we broke it. The cycle of distorted values that had continued for generations. Grace walked over to me. “Mama,” she said with a smile. “I’ll never forget the day she first called me mama.

” Kevin cried tears of joy, too. I want this child to have a life where her value isn’t measured by her gender. I want her to grow up simply as a being who is loved. I lit the candles on the cake. Grace stared at the flames with wonder. We all sang Happy Birthday. Kevin picked up our daughter and together they blew out the candles. Everyone applauded.

After our friends left in the evening, we put Grace to bed. Looking at her sleeping face, Kevin put his hand on my shoulder. We’ll never let her go through the same thing. I nodded. Never. Kevin touched Grace’s cheek. Our family is connected not by blood, but by the will to protect each other. That’s right, I answered.

 Even with blood ties, there are people who won’t try to protect you. Like Diane, but even without blood connection, there are people you want to protect with all your heart. What matters is that will. Grace rolled over and breathed softly in her sleep. Over this past year, we’ve been gripped by anxiety many times.

 What if someone else tries to hurt this child? Trauma doesn’t go away easily, but bit by bit, we’re moving forward. Returning to the living room, Kevin was pouring wine into two glasses. We made it through the year. You did well. So did you. We clinkedked our glasses. There will surely be difficult times ahead.

 Parenting won’t go according to plan, but we have an unwavering will to protect our daughter. We’ll live looking toward the future, not bound by the curses of the past. That’s the path we’ve chosen. Outside the window, stars were shining. The sky in our new town shows more stars than the city we used to live in. When Grace grows up, we’ll look at the stars together. And I want to tell her, you are wonderful just as you are.

 You weren’t born to meet someone’s expectations. You came into this world simply to be loved. What is a true family? It’s not about blood ties. It’s about those who have the will to break the chains of the past and protect the next generation. And we’ve become that family. Grace’s laughter carries hope for tomorrow. We keep moving forward, looking ahead to protect this tiny life and to create a new form of family. A year ago on that day, I thought everything would crumble.