The Game She Played

The doctor's words echoed, a distant hum, yet crystal clear: "Congratulations, Mrs. Prescott, you're pregnant!" My husband Ethan beamed beside me, his grip on my hand tightening, a wide, genuine smile lighting his face – the kind of pure joy I hadn't seen in far too long. He pulled me into a hug, his voice booming with happiness that filled the sterile room.

But a cold dread pierced me, deeper than any clinic air conditioning. This exact moment. I remembered it.

In my last life, this pregnancy, this supposed joy, became the very weapon they used against me.