The baby I gave birth to was wrong. My husband, Adams, held the swaddled bundle up to me, his face glowing with a fervent joy. “Look, Clara. She’s perfect. Our daughter is just perfect.” But I took one glance and shoved her away. Her eyes were brown. “Let’s get a divorce,” I said, my voice as cold as the sterile room. “I don’t want a child with brown eyes.” ... Both Adams and I have blue eyes. Our daughter’s were a flat, muddy brown. I couldn’t stand it. “I want a divorce,” I repeated. “I’m not raising this child. If you want her, you can raise her yourself.” Adams stared at me, his smile collapsing into disbelief. “Clara, what are you talking about? This is our daughter! The baby you carried for nine months!” I slapped his hand away, my gaze fixed on the clock ticking on the wall. “Her eyes are brown. I hate brown eyes.” His face froze. The other new mothers in the ward, drawn by the commotion, stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “Honey, you can’t be serious, can you?” one of them said gently. “I heard the nurses talking. Your labor was brutal. They all thought you’d need a C-section, but you gritted your teeth and pushed her out yourself.” “How can you just throw away a child you fought so hard for?” Another woman chimed in, her voice coaxing. “That’s right, Clara. We all saw you, every day, playing classical music for your belly, talking to her. What’s gotten into you all of a sudden?” But no matter what they said, I just shook my head, my expression a mask of indifference. Seeing their words had no effect, they turned on Adams. “Mr. Miller, could this be postpartum depression? How have you been taking care of your wife?” “You need to pay attention to her! You’re so wrapped up in the baby, you’ve forgotten the real hero here!” The words hit Adams like a physical blow. He slapped his own forehead. “Clara, honey, I’m so sorry. I’ve been neglecting you.” “Do you want something to eat… Oh, God, what an idiot I am, you can’t eat yet. I’ll get you some broth from the nurses! Honey, can you hold the baby for a second? I’ll be right back…” “Get that thing away from me.” My voice was flat, but the disgust in my eyes was unmistakable. Adams froze mid-motion. “Clara, what is wrong with you? Please, you’re scaring me.” His voice trembled. “Are you just exhausted from the birth? Maybe… maybe I should get a psychiatrist to talk to you? We can figure this out, okay?” He knelt by my bedside, his eyes wide with panic. The other women in the room murmured among themselves about what a good, caring husband I had. “Clara’s so lucky.” “I know, right? He’s barely left her side since she was admitted.” “That baby was born into a good home.” My brow furrowed. “I’m not depressed. Get this child out of my sight. I don’t like brown eyes. You’re ruining my mood.” The room fell silent. “Waaah!” As if sensing the suffocating tension, the baby began to wail. Adams immediately started bouncing her, a clumsy, frantic dance. “Clara, what’s wrong with her? What do I do?” The woman in the next bed, a second-time mom, offered some advice. “She’s hungry. She needs to nurse. Let her mother feed her!” Adams looked at me, his face a mask of desperation. “Clara, whatever you’re upset about, can we please talk about it later? Our daughter needs to eat. She’s crying from hunger.” The other mothers couldn’t bear it. “Honey, the baby is innocent. Whatever’s wrong, you can’t let the baby starve.” “Just feed her first. You can sort everything else out later, okay?” But I just kept staring at the clock, my heart pounding. *No. The time isn’t right.* In a sudden movement, I snatched the baby from his arms. “Clara, you’re finally willing to…” Before he could finish, I bolted from the bed and ran to the window. “Divorce me right now, or I’ll throw her out!” The baby in my arms, as if sensing the danger, began to scream. The color drained from Adams’s face. “Clara, don’t! Calm down, please, put the baby down…” “Call your parents. Tell them to bring our marriage certificate and birth certificates. And a divorce agreement. If you haven’t signed it in half an hour, I’m dropping her.” My voice was unnervingly calm. “Clara! Okay! I’ll do anything you want, just put the baby down!” Adams cried, his hands outstretched but his feet rooted to the spot, terrified to move closer. The ward erupted into chaos. “Ma’am, please, calm down! It’s normal to have mood swings after giving birth. We can help you!” a nurse said, inching toward me. “Is she insane?! Call security! Call the police!” “Clara, don’t do it! We can talk this through! The baby can’t take this!” I watched the nurse’s slow approach, my eyes narrowing. I shifted the baby further out the open window. “Stop!” Adams screamed. “Clara, I promise! I’ll do it! I’m calling my parents right now!” He fumbled for his phone, his hands shaking violently as he dialed. Not only did his parents come, but mine did as well. The moment my mother-in-law saw the baby dangling halfway out the window, her legs gave out and she collapsed. “Clara, what are you doing? That’s your own daughter!” My own mother was sobbing. “Sweetheart, all the fertility treatments you went through, all the pain… you finally have her. Why are you doing this?” My father’s face was beet red. “Honey, don’t do something you’ll regret. You want a divorce, you want anything, Dad supports you! But don’t be rash! Even if you don’t want the child, think about yourself! If that baby dies, your life is over!” I saw the documents in my in-laws’ hands and pulled the baby back an inch. But then my gaze hardened, and I pushed her out again. “Sign it. Or I drop her.” “But why?” my mother-in-law wailed, clutching her chest. “We were all so happy! Why do you suddenly want a divorce?” My father-in-law helped her up, then shot Adams a venomous glare. “Clara, you tell me. Did Adams do something to wrong you? I’ll teach him a lesson right now!” I just shook my head, repeating the same line like a broken record. “Her eyes are brown. I don’t like them. I don’t want to raise her. You can have her. I want a divorce.” Seeing me like this, my mother broke down completely. Just then, doctors and more nurses burst into the room. They looked at me with alarm, then turned to Adams. “From the looks of it, your wife is suffering from severe postpartum psychosis. Has anything happened recently that might have triggered this? We need to know so we can calm her down.” Adams stomped his foot in frustration. “Clara and I have been so happy, I can’t think of anything… wait. Could it be…?” He looked at the baby, then back at me, his expression pleading. “Honey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said I was hoping for a boy. Is that it? Please, put the baby down. We’ll only have this one daughter, I swear. No more kids, ever!” My mother latched onto this. “Clara, is it that you don’t want to raise a baby? I’ll do it! I’ll raise her for you, I’ll put it in writing right now!” My dad added, his face flushed, “I was wrong to pressure you to settle down! I’ll never mention it again!” My mother-in-law was practically hysterical. “Clara, it’s my fault! I shouldn’t have argued with you about breastfeeding versus formula! It’s just a few cans of formula, we can afford it!” Everyone stared at me, their faces a mixture of fear and pity. “Young lady, look at how much your family loves you,” a doctor said softly. “For your own sake, please, just put the baby down.” “That’s right, you won’t even have to raise her. You can just be a mom without any of the work. It’ll be so easy.” I glanced at the clock on the wall and sighed. “You still don’t get it. It has nothing to do with any of that. I just hate brown eyes. I told you, sign the divorce papers, and I’ll give you the baby.” I took another step toward the window. The air in the room seemed to vanish. “Okay! I’ll sign! I’ll sign!” Adams shouted, snatching the papers. He scribbled his name and held the agreement up for me to see. I looked at the black ink on the white paper, my expression flickering for a moment. The nurses took another cautious step toward me. “Read the terms out loud!” I snapped, clutching the baby defensively. They froze. Adams, his voice cracking, began to read. The agreement was fair. All assets were to be divided equally. When he finished, he stared at me, his eyes begging. “Honey, I’m an idiot. I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’ve signed the papers. I did what you wanted. Can you please put the baby down now? She’s innocent!” Everyone was moved by the raw desperation in his voice. But I was still watching the clock. *Not enough. It’s still not enough.* “This is just a piece of paper! You could still back out on the day!” I shouted. “Get someone from the courthouse here. I want the divorce finalized on the spot. Or you can forget about ever seeing this baby again!” Adams’s face fell. Now everyone was certain. I was completely insane. “Ma’am, please calm down!” The door was thrown open and several police officers rushed in. “You called the police?” My voice turned to ice. The lead officer held up his hands placatingly. “Ma’am, stay calm! You said you wanted someone from the courthouse, right? We’re contacting them for you right now!” I stared at them, my grip on the baby unwavering. “Hurry up. Or I’m jumping down with her.” The officer nodded quickly, pulling out his phone. He showed me the number he was dialing and put the call on speaker so I could hear. My attention was completely fixed on him, terrified he would rush me and grab the baby. Then, I saw him make a subtle hand gesture behind his back. *A hand gesture?* I knew something was wrong. I whirled around, but it was too late. I was tackled from behind. The lead officer lunged forward and snatched the baby— They had officers waiting on the scaffolding outside the building. He was just a distraction. “Let me go! Let me go!” I thrashed with all my might, but it was useless. The baby was safe. A collective sigh of relief swept through the room. My eyes were locked on the clock. With a surge of adrenaline, I broke free from the officer holding me down and lunged for the one holding the baby. “Give her back to me!” My mother-in-law shrieked and grabbed a handful of my hair. “What else are you trying to do to my granddaughter—” “Adams, hold her down! Don’t let her go crazy again!” While his mother pulled my hair, my father-in-law pinned my arms, and Adams threw his weight on top of me, forcing me to the floor. “You tried to kill my granddaughter! You monster!” my mother-in-law screamed, yanking my hair and slapping me, tears of relief streaming down her face. My own parents rushed to stop her, but in the end, they held my legs down. “Honey, why are you doing this to yourself?” But I wasn’t looking at them. I was looking at the clock. What time was it? 2:59 PM. *Almost there. It’s almost time.* Five… four… three… two… one… *“Bing-bong. The time is now three P.M.”* The hospital’s automated announcement echoed through the halls. My body went completely limp. *Thank God. It’s time.*
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