Chapter 3

"You bought a snake, didn't you? I heard you. Why are you lying to me?"

"You know how terrified I am of snakes. Why are you doing this to me?!"

The memories of my horrific death in my past life surged, and I couldn't stop myself from screaming.

Chloe was stunned into silence. Having let out all my rage, I slammed the phone down and hung up.

A moment later, Leo sent me a Snapchat message, lecturing me:

What the hell is wrong with you? Is this how a mother behaves?

We agreed we would raise our child as an independent individual.

If you can't respect and support your child, why did you even have one?

Chloe likes snakes. What's wrong with keeping one? Are you really going to throw a tantrum over this?

She's crying because of you. And you're still not home? Do you even care about this family?

Aurora, grow up. Do you think we're still dating?

Does everyone have to cater to your feelings?

If you're not home, who's making dinner?

And did you get the cake Chloe wanted?

You don't care about anything else, and now you can't even buy a simple cake for your own daughter!

I let out a bitter laugh. I had sacrificed everything for this family, yet in their eyes, I was still a failure of a wife and a terrible mother.

When we first got married, our finances were tight, so I wanted to hold off on having kids.

But Leo told me that as women get older, the quality of their eggs drops. He claimed if we waited, I'd have trouble conceiving, or worse, miscarry.

He said even if I did manage to give birth, the baby would be sickly.

Anxious and blinded by his words, I forgot that Leo was five years older than me.

If anyone had "poor quality," it was him.

Once I got pregnant, Leo would rub my belly every day.

He promised he would raise the baby himself to make sure they grew up independent, successful, and respected.

Seeing his supposed paternal love, I actually felt lucky to have married him.

Then, he told me my uterus was too weak and forced me to take early maternity leave to "protect the baby."

I didn't want to. I had just passed my probation at work. Taking leave now would make my boss think I had planned the pregnancy just to abuse the company's benefits.

But he just looked at me with pure disdain:

"The moment you got pregnant, your boss started hating you anyway. If you don't take leave now, you're just letting them exploit you."

I couldn't win the argument. Under the judgmental gazes of my colleagues and manager, I took my leave.

"She's barely even showing."

"She just passed her probation. Didn't she get pregnant during her trial period?"

"I remember the senior partners saying they didn't want to hire women."

"Yeah, Jennifer vouched for her. She promised there'd be no issues during the critical six-month project phase."

"Even if she is pregnant, she looks perfectly healthy. Why does she need leave this early?"

"Who knows? Maybe she has some 'medical complications.'"

My entire pregnancy was spent in a state of high anxiety.

I was excited for the baby, but I was also terrified of losing my career, of raising a child, and of trying to re-enter the workforce later.

But the moment the baby was born, Leo pressured me to quit.

"Breastfeeding is the healthiest option. You're a mother now. Your priority should be our child, not your selfish career."

I was too weak postpartum to fight him.

Looking at the tiny infant in my arms, a wave of maternal love washed over me.

Back then, I believed Leo was right. I was willing to sacrifice everything for my baby.

But when I handed in my resignation, my colleague's words echoed in my mind: “I knew she was just using us for maternity benefits.” It cut like a knife.

Leo pretended to comfort me, though he was really just looking down on them:

"People who haven't had kids just don't get it. Nurturing a new life is a woman's greatest value."