Ch. Sorry Hayden, I’m Seven Months Pregnant with Another Man’s Baby 59 Sorry Hayden, I’m Seven Months Pregnant with Another Man’s Baby 59

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Mom almost died giving birth to me, and after that, she was never the same. The doctors called it 

postpartum depression. 

Whenever I even breathed too loud, she’d scream and lunge at me, hands around my throat. 

But afterward, she’d crumple beside my crib, sobbing and whispering that she was sorry. 

My brother Sam Evans would look at my bruises and tell me Mom used to be different. He said she used to 

be gentle, and that I shouldn’t blame her. 

Dad would slip me toys when Mom wasn’t looking, guilt written all over his face. He kept saying she’d get better if I could just hold on a little longer. 

So I learned to disappear. I didn’t cry, didn’t laugh, barely breathed. And eventually, she did get better. 

But on my sixth birthday, I messed up. There was a cake, and I couldn’t stop staring at it. 

Something in Mom’s face changed. Her eyes went wild, and she slammed the cake off the table, screaming 

at me. 

“You almost killed me on that operating table! And you have the nerve to want cake?” 

Sam’s smile faded. “God, can’t you control yourself for one second? Do you like making Mom upset?” 

Even Dad broke, his face ashen with exhaustion. “We never should have had you. We were fine without you. 

The three of us were happy.” 

They huddled around Mom and walked out, leaving me behind. 

I stared at the ruined cake on the floor. Then I walked to the balcony, tears blurring my vision. 

*** 

I climbed over the railing and jumped. There was a dull thud, and then, finally, silence. Finally, peace. 

I felt myself drifting upward, light as air, until I was back inside our apartment. 

The living room was eerily quiet. The cake lay splattered on the floor, the only sign anything had happened. 

I drifted toward the mess, and somehow, even now, I couldn’t stop crying. It was my first birthday party. Six 

years old, and this was my first. 

Mom had always hated me. Nothing I did was ever right. If I cried, she called me a burden. If I laughed, she 

flew at me with her fists. 

In the beginning, Dad and Sam tried to protect me. They’d sneak me candy and toys when she wasn’t around. 

But Mom found out, and after a few of her screaming fits, they stopped. They were too scared to show me any kindness after that. And eventually, they just gave up. 

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They looked the other way when she hit me. They told themselves she just needed to let it out, that she’d 

calm down once she was done 

All they ever said was the same thing, over and over. Just a little longer, Lily Mom will get better 

Some nights, after she was done with me, I’d lie there half-asleep, still crying. I’d dream that someone was 

there, rubbing cool cream on my bruises, crying softly beside me. 

I’d whimper in my sleep. “Mom, please don’t hit me. I’ll be good. I’m sorry.” 

But the person would always choke back a sob and slip away. 

I looked down at the ruined cake and whispered to myself. “I have to clean this up before Mom gets back, or 

she’ll be mad again.” 

“She just started getting better. I can’t mess that up.” 

But my hand went right through the broom. I tried again and again, but I couldn’t grip it. 

I lifted my sleeve to wipe my eyes. Useless. I was useless. I couldn’t even do this one last thing before I left. 

Before I could think another thought, something pulled me away. 

When I opened my eyes, I was somewhere else. Mom, Dad, and Sam were sitting at a fancy restaurant. It was the kind of place I’d only ever seen on TV-white tablecloths and glittering chandeliers. 

Mom’s eyes were red as she ranted. 

“Having her wrecked my body. I can never work again. I spent ten years clawing my way up to that job, and 

now it’s gone!” 

“It’s all her fault! She’s a curse, a parasite. She’s ruined my life! Why couldn’t she just die?” 

Dad gently rubbed her back. “I know, honey. If we’d known, we would’ve stopped at Sam. We never should 

have had her.” 

Sam wrapped his arms around her. “Mom wouldn’t have had to suffer all these years if she’d never been 

born.” 

I stood there watching, tears streaming down my face. 

I never knew. I never knew I’d hurt her this much. I never knew I’d ruined everything 

I should never have existed. 

I wanted to scream it loud enough for them to hear. 

“Mom, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made your life so hard. I’m gone now. I’ll never make you angry again” 

“And if there’s a next life, please, please don’t let me be yours.” 

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