I was seven months pregnant. After my prenatal checkup, I dozed off in the passenger seat on the ride home. When I woke up, the baby in my belly was gone. I instantly freaked out, but my husband just smiled at me with absolute adoration. "Still half-asleep? You were never pregnant, honey. What baby?" I thought it was a sick joke and forced him to turn the car around and speed back to the hospital. But the nurses said I was there for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam. The OB-GYN shook her head and swore she had never seen me in her life. Even my own mother called me, her voice red and teary. "Sweetheart, is the stress of trying to conceive getting to you? Why don't we go see a psychiatrist?" But just two hours ago, I had literally watched the tiny, beating heart of my child on the ultrasound monitor. How could a seven-month pregnancy just vanish into thin air like a magic trick? I refused to believe I was crazy. I called the cops, demanded security footage, and tore through the clinic's records. There was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy or my checkups. Everyone was convinced I had lost my mind. In a haze of heavy sedatives and utter despair, I slipped and fell from the hospital roof. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the morning of my prenatal checkup. 1 "Chloe, time to get up. We can't be late for your checkup today." Mark's voice floated through the bedroom door, as gentle and loving as always. I groggily opened my eyes, my hand instinctively dropping to my stomach. I froze for two seconds, then shot up in bed and yanked up my pajama shirt. It was round and heavy. The little one inside seemed to be startled by my sudden movement and gave me a sharp kick. My eyes instantly welled up with tears. In my previous life, today was the exact day Mark accompanied me to the Women's Clinic for my seven-month checkup. After it was over, I felt incredibly drowsy and dozed off in the passenger seat. When I opened my eyes again, my stomach was completely flat. The baby was gone. My husband claimed I had never been pregnant. The nurses said I was there for a basic physical. Even my own mother told me my anxiety over getting pregnant had caused me to hallucinate. I refused to accept it. I caused a massive scene at the hospital, and eventually, security dragged me away and admitted me to a psych ward. But even as I fell from that rooftop to my death, I couldn't understand it. How could a seven-month-old fetus, a baby I had felt moving inside me, just vanish without a trace? They all said she was a figment of my imagination. But right now, she was unequivocally resting inside my belly. I stroked my stomach, the tears silently falling down my cheeks. "What's wrong, honey? Did you have a nightmare?" Mark leaned halfway into the room, pausing when he saw my red, teary eyes. I looked at him, my emotions an absolute tangled mess. In my previous life, he was exactly like this—gentle, considerate, the absolute best husband in the world. But after the baby disappeared, he was the one who swore I had never been pregnant, and he was the one who followed the doctor's advice to lock me in a psychiatric facility. In this life, I didn't know if I could trust him at all. But no matter what, until I uncovered the truth, I couldn't tip my hand. "I'm fine. Just didn't sleep well," I forced a tight smile. "I don't feel like going out today. Let's reschedule the checkup." Mark paused, walking over to feel my forehead. "Are you feeling sick?" "Just really exhausted." "Alright then. I'll call the clinic and push it back three days," he said, looking down at his phone. "That specialist is in the office on Wednesday anyway." Watching his profile, my mind raced. In this life, if I just hid at home and refused to go to the clinic, would my baby be safe? But how long could I hide? I had to figure out exactly what happened in my previous life. Why did every single person swear I was never pregnant? I closed my eyes, pressing my palm against my skin, feeling the subtle movements of the little life inside me. It's not a hallucination. I had three days to uncover the truth. The first day, I found nothing out of the ordinary. All I could do was take photos of every single prenatal medical record I had accumulated over the past seven months and back them up to a secure cloud drive. I remembered that in my past life, when I frantically searched the house for my old ultrasound printouts, they were all gone. Even the hospital's security cameras magically had no record of me. But I still felt paranoid, so I booked a last-minute maternity photoshoot at a local portrait studio. During the shoot, I paid the assistants extra to take a ton of behind-the-scenes videos on my phone, clearly documenting me walking around with a massive baby bump. Only then did my anxiety ease slightly. Next, I called my mom. "Mom, I'm really craving your homemade lasagna." "Of course, sweetie! I'll make a huge batch and bring it over. You're eating for two now, you need the calories." "Mom, do you remember how many months pregnant I am right now?" "Seven months, Chloe. How could your own mother forget that?" I recorded that entire conversation. In my past life, my mother had looked a police officer dead in the eye and told him I was never pregnant. In this life, no matter what crazy tricks they pulled, these audio files weren't going to just vanish. The day of the rescheduled checkup arrived. Mark went to the billing counter to handle the copay, leaving me sitting on a bench in the waiting area. A nurse in standard pink scrubs walked over. Seeing my belly, she offered a warm smile. "Carrying high and pointy like that, I'd bet money it's a boy." Mark returned just in time to hear her and chimed in smoothly. "Boy or girl, I don't care. If it's a boy, we'll protect his mom together. If it's a girl, I'll protect both my girls." The nurse covered her mouth and giggled. "Oh my, your husband is so sweet." I couldn't bring myself to smile. I remembered this nurse. In my past life, she had said those exact same words: Carrying high and pointy, I'd bet money it's a boy. But later, when I tore through the hospital looking for her, she had stared at me with wide, innocent eyes. "Ma'am, are you confused? You were here for a routine physical, not a prenatal exam." This time, I had quietly opened the voice memo app on my phone and recorded her every word. The examination room was on the third floor. The OB-GYN doing my ultrasound was a middle-aged woman in her early forties with a gentle demeanor. Dr. Evans. In my past life, she was the one who examined me too. When the baby disappeared and I charged into her office demanding answers, she had looked completely bewildered. "Ma'am, I have never seen you before in my life. Are you sure you have the right doctor?" But my memory was crystal clear. It was her. I stared at her face. She was looking down, adjusting the monitor, completely oblivious to my intense glare. "Alright, go ahead and lay back. Lift your shirt for me." I lay down. The cold gel hit my skin, and the probe slid across my stomach. The familiar, tiny silhouette appeared on the screen. "Developing beautifully," Dr. Evans said. "The head circumference is slightly above average. Just keep an eye on your sugar intake so the baby doesn't get too big for delivery." I stared at the monitor, my eyes tearing up again. "Dr. Evans, could I take a quick picture with you?" She paused, surprised. I quickly added, "First-time mom. I just really want to document the journey." She smiled warmly. "Of course. Go ahead." I pulled out my phone, switched to the front camera, and leaned in close. Click. I looked down at the photo. Dr. Evans's face, my face, and the ultrasound monitor clearly showing the baby in the background. It was all there. Crystal clear. Let's see you try to deny this in this life, I thought fiercely. Walking out of the exam room, I purposely tracked down that nurse. "Nurse Rachel, could we grab a quick picture?" I held up my phone. "I'm making a pregnancy vlog for the baby." Rachel was incredibly accommodating. "Where's your husband? Let's have him take a full-body shot of us." Mark was pulled over, and he snapped several photos of Rachel and me. In every single photo, my massive baby bump was front and center. "Why are you so hyper today?" Mark asked with a chuckle. I put my phone in my purse. "First pregnancy, remember? I just want to make a lot of memories." In reality, I wanted to make a lot of evidence. This time, I had photos, videos, audio recordings, and multiple witnesses. I refused to believe they could pull off whatever they did last time. Walking out of the hospital, Mark helped me into the passenger seat. "Tired? Take a quick nap. I'll wake you when we get home." I shook my head. "I don't want to go home. I want to go to that famous brunch spot downtown." He paused, then smiled. "Alright. Whatever the queen wants." In my past life, I had fallen asleep in the car on the way home. When I woke up, my child was gone. This time, I absolutely refused to sleep. And I needed to be somewhere packed with people! The diner wasn't far from the hospital. We got there in twenty minutes. But there was a massive crowd waiting outside. "Want to go somewhere else?" Mark asked. "No. I want this place." I waddled over to the crowded waiting area and sat down. Mark offered a helpless smile and went to the host stand to put our name in. The waiting area was packed. A waitress carrying a tray walked over. "Ma'am, please have some crackers while you wait. We can't have our expecting mothers going hungry." She handed me a small bag of artisan crackers. I thanked her, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. With so many people watching, nothing could possibly happen to me here, right? I leaned back against the bench, watching the bustling crowd, but my eyelids started to feel incredibly heavy. I had barely slept the night before. Now, sitting in the warm, cozy waiting area, waves of unnatural exhaustion began crashing over me. I fought desperately to keep my eyes open, but my vision rapidly blurred into darkness. ...... "Chloe?" Someone was shaking my shoulder. I jolted awake. My very first instinct was to grab my stomach. It was flat. I froze, and frantically felt it again. Flat. I violently yanked up my sweater. My stomach was completely smooth and flat. "What's wrong?" Mark crouched in front of me, looking deeply confused. I opened my mouth, my voice trembling violently. "The baby is gone..." "What?" "The baby is gone!" I pointed at my stomach, screaming. "My seven-month-old baby is gone!" Mark froze for a second, then let out a soft chuckle. "Chloe, are you still half-asleep? Since when were you ever pregnant?" I stared at him, my eyes wide with terror, and shrieked: "What do you mean?! We literally just left the prenatal clinic!" Mark frowned slightly, looking genuinely concerned. "Honey, we did go to the hospital today, but it wasn't for a prenatal exam. You had a routine physical." Those exact words again. My entire body began to shake. I stumbled out of my chair and lunged at the waitress who had given me the crackers, grabbing her arm. "Earlier! You said I was an expecting mother and gave me crackers so I wouldn't go hungry! Do you remember?!" The waitress looked terrified. "Ma'am, what are you talking about? We don't even serve crackers here." I stood there, paralyzed. Then I frantically dug into my purse, pulled out my phone, and opened my photo gallery. The selfies with Dr. Evans and Nurse Rachel... they were all gone. Refusing to give up, I opened Facebook. Yesterday, after the maternity shoot, I had posted the behind-the-scenes videos. Dozens of friends and coworkers had liked and commented on it. But that post had vanished completely from my timeline. "Impossible..." My trembling fingers kept scrolling. Mark walked over and gently squeezed my shoulders. "Chloe, you've been under so much stress trying to conceive. You're having hallucinations." I violently slapped his hands away and sprinted out of the diner. I had to go back to the hospital. I had to find that doctor, and that nurse. They had to remember me. When I burst through the clinic doors, Nurse Rachel was taking a pregnant woman's blood pressure. I grabbed her arm. "Nurse Rachel! Do you remember me?!" Rachel jumped, looking at me in utter bewilderment. "Ma'am, do you have the wrong person?" "How could I have the wrong person?! You literally took photos with me this morning!" Rachel thought for a second, then shook her head, cutting me off. "I've been working the inpatient ward all morning. I wasn't even in the outpatient clinic. Were you here for a prenatal exam?" I froze. "Then what about the female doctor who did my ultrasound?!" Rachel flipped through the clipboard on the desk. "All the attending ultrasound technicians on duty today are male. There are no female doctors on shift." My brain exploded with a deafening ringing sound. A pregnant woman sitting nearby muttered to her husband, "Is she mentally ill?" "Probably drove herself crazy trying to get pregnant. My cousin did the same thing. Tried for three years, ended up having phantom pregnancies and hallucinating babies..." "Seriously, look at her stomach. It's completely flat. Who is she trying to fool..." I ran into the hospital bathroom like a madwoman, lifted my shirt in front of the mirror, and stared at my stomach. Smooth. Flat. As if I had never been pregnant a day in my life. I slid down the wall of the bathroom stall, collapsing onto the tile floor. My mind was completely blank. No. This is wrong. I must have missed something. My phone rang. It was my mom. I scrambled to answer it. "Chloe, did you get the lasagna I dropped off?" I opened my mouth, a desperate spark of hope igniting in my chest. "Mom... do you remember that I'm pregnant?" The line was silent for two seconds. Her voice came back laced with pure confusion. "Pregnant? Haven't you and Mark been trying for over a year with no luck?" My hand gripping the phone began to shake violently. "Mom, I literally sent you my maternity photoshoot videos yesterday. Did you forget?!" My mom sounded even more confused. "No you didn't, sweetie. You just called me saying you were craving lasagna. That's all." I opened my text messages. The videos in our chat history were gone. My mom's voice filled with deep concern. "Chloe, are you overworking yourself? Don't put so much pressure on yourself, honey. A baby will come when the time is right..." Sitting on the cold bathroom floor, an icy chill seeped into my bones. Was I doomed to repeat this nightmare? Was I trapped in this impossible loop forever? No. I refuse to be a sitting duck! I splashed cold water on my face and marched out of the bathroom. I immediately heard a commotion down the hall. "That's her. She's the one harassing the staff..." "Call security. She's clearly having a psychotic break..." I looked down the corridor. A crowd had formed outside the OB-GYN clinic. In the center, Mark was explaining something to a nurse. When he saw me, he rushed over. "Chloe, where did you go? I've been looking everywhere for you." I stared at him. This man. We had been married for five years, and he had always been loving and perfect. Right now, his eyes were filled with nothing but profound worry and heartbreak. I stared dead into his pupils. "Mark, do you really not remember taking me for my prenatal checkup today?" Mark sighed heavily, reaching out to hold my hand. "Honey, let's go home first. You need to rest, okay?" "Answer the question!" He paused, his eyes darting away for a fraction of a second. "Chloe. You were never pregnant." I closed my eyes. There it is. "Ma'am, please stop disrupting hospital operations." Two security guards approached me. "We received a complaint that you are harassing medical staff. Please cooperate and leave the premises." I took a step back. The hallway was full of people staring at me, whispering loudly. "What a shame. She's so pretty, but completely out of her mind..." "I've seen cases like this. They all end up in a straightjacket..." "Her poor husband..." Mark stepped in front of me, speaking to the guards. "I am so sorry. My wife has been under extreme psychological stress lately. I'll take her home right now." He grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the exit. I followed mechanically, my brain totally numb. But right at that moment, I caught a glimpse of the digital calendar hanging on the lobby wall. I stopped dead in my tracks, grabbed the arm of a passing nurse, and asked, my voice trembling violently: "Is... is the date on that clock correct?" The nurse was startled by my intensity but answered anyway. "Yeah, it's correct. Why?" So that was it! I finally understood why my baby was gone, and why there was absolutely zero trace of my pregnancy! Chapter 2 "Ma'am, you need to leave," the security guard said, his hand already clamping down on my shoulder. Mark chimed in with the perfect tone of a loving, exhausted husband. "Chloe, please, be good. Let's just go home..." I stared dead at the digital calendar on the wall. March 15, 2024. The day of my prenatal checkup was March 15, 2023. An entire year. When I fell asleep in that diner and woke up, it wasn't a few hours later. It was a whole year later! A horrifying realization suddenly crystallized in my mind. "Chloe?" Mark asked, his voice probing cautiously. "What are you thinking about?" I slowly turned my head, looking at his mask of gentle concern. In my past life, he had looked at me exactly like this right before having me committed to an asylum. In this life, if I kept causing a scene, the ending would be exactly the same. I forced down the tidal wave of horror and panic inside me, and squeezed out an exhausted, fragile smile. "Nothing. I'm just so tired. I think I really am having hallucinations." Mark visibly exhaled a sigh of relief and supported my arm. "That's okay. Let's get you home." I let him guide me out the hospital doors. Behind us, the crowd continued to whisper. "What a tragedy, going crazy so young." "Her husband is a saint for putting up with that." I kept my head down, burying the absolute storm of fury in my chest. Mark helped me into the passenger seat and leaned over to buckle my seatbelt with practiced care. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you when we're in the garage." "Okay," I closed my eyes, my voice soft and perfectly level. As the engine started, I pretended to sleep, squinting through my eyelashes to study his profile in the driver's seat. Mark Davis. What the hell did you do to me? Back at the house, Mark tucked me into bed and brought me a mug of warm milk. "Drink this, then get some real sleep." I took the mug, faked a sip, and the moment he left the room, I poured the entire thing into a potted plant. Laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, my brain was spinning at lightspeed. If my theory was right, then how did no one notice I was missing for an entire year? Was someone actively impersonating me on my social media and messaging apps? The only person who could pull off an elaborate, sustained identity theft like that was the person closest to me. Mark. But I needed hard proof. When I was certain he was fast asleep next to me, I quietly slipped out of bed, grabbed my phone, and dialed a number. "Hello, Private Investigator? I need a deep background check on someone." The voice on the other end was gruff. "Ma'am, this kind of work isn't cheap, and it takes time." "Money is not an issue. As for time..." I gritted my teeth. "How fast can you do it?" "A week." "I'll pay you double if you have it in three days." "Deal." I hung up, wiped the call log, hid my phone, and slipped back under the covers. Mark rolled over, his arm draping heavily over my waist. "Why are you still awake?" he mumbled. "Just going to sleep now," I whispered softly. I didn't let a single tremor of fear enter my voice. Those three days were like walking on a tightrope over a pit of vipers. Mark smothered me with care. He cooked me organic, nutrient-dense meals every day, walked with me in the evenings, and meticulously reminded me to take my pills. "These are your vitamins. The doctor said your body has been very weak lately. You need to build your strength back up," he said, pressing the white pills into my palm. I smiled, took them, and the second he turned around, I spit them into a tissue and buried them in the trash. I refused to consume anything he gave me. God only knew what chemicals were in those pills. On the second day, I used the excuse of visiting my best friend to sneak out and meet the private investigator. "Got it," the PI slid a manila folder across the cafe table. "Your husband, Mark Davis, has a hidden prior marriage." My fingers trembled as I opened the folder. A photograph showed Mark in a tuxedo, his arm wrapped around a woman in a wedding dress. He looked blissfully happy. The woman looked terrifyingly familiar. "His ex-wife's name is Rachel Brooks," the PI said. "She used to be a registered nurse at the Women's Clinic. Actually, she still works there." My brain felt like it was short-circuiting. The nurse who had taken my blood pressure, the one who smiled and told me I was carrying a boy. That was Mark's ex-wife? "There's something much worse," the PI slid a second folder toward me. "They had a son together. He was six years old, diagnosed with acute leukemia. He desperately needed a bone marrow or stem cell transplant." "From my research, stem cells from a biological sibling have the highest success rate. And the absolute highest quality stem cells come from the umbilical cord blood of a newborn sibling." The folder slipped from my hands and hit the floor. Every single disjointed puzzle piece violently slammed into place. Mark and his ex-wife's son was dying. He needed a sibling to save his life. But they were divorced. They couldn't just have another baby together. And I... happened to be pregnant. "How is their son doing now?" my voice was a raspy whisper. The PI shook his head. "He passed away last month." I closed my eyes, the tears falling silently. "There's one more thing," the PI's voice grew heavy. "Over the past year, your husband made three massive wire transfers to a shell account tied to the hospital. A total of $800,000. The ultimate beneficiary was the OB-GYN department at the Women's Clinic." "I also hacked into your sealed medical records. On March 15th of last year, you were there for a prenatal checkup. But on that exact same day, there is a surgical log under your name. An emergency, forced premature C-section." My entire body shook violently. "Where is my baby?!" "The logs state that a premature infant girl survived the procedure, and was signed out and discharged to the biological father, Mark Davis." Discharged? Discharged to where?! I shot up from my chair, the world spinning so violently I almost collapsed. "Ma'am, are you alright?" the PI asked, alarmed. I gripped the edge of the table, inhaling sharply. "I'm going to the police." The next day, I marched straight into the local police precinct. "I need to report a crime! My baby was kidnapped!" The desk sergeant looked up. "Ma'am, take a deep breath. Start from the beginning. What happened?" "Last year, I was seven months pregnant. I went to the hospital for a checkup, and then..." I took a shaky breath. "Then I slipped into a coma. When I woke up, my baby was gone, my stomach was flat, and everyone told me I was never pregnant!" The officer's expression shifted into something uncomfortable. "Ma'am, are you saying you were in a coma for an entire year?" "Yes!" "And where were you during this year?" "I..." I froze. I didn't know. Where the hell had my physical body been kept? "Ma'am, do you have any proof of this?" I reached for my phone, but the PI was still compiling the hard copies of the financial records and medical logs. I didn't have the smoking gun in my hand yet. I panicked, but my silence translated to guilt in the eyes of the police. The officer sighed, his tone shifting to that polite, patronizing voice reserved for the mentally unstable. "I suggest you go to a hospital for a psychological evaluation. If there was genuine medical malpractice, we can connect you with the medical board. But in all likelihood, you are experiencing a mental health crisis..." "No! I want to file a police report! This is human trafficking!" "Ma'am, please calm down..." "I am calm!" I slammed my hands on the desk. "Rachel Brooks, a nurse at the Women's Clinic, stole my baby! Investigate her!" My shouting drew the attention of the other officers and the civilians in the lobby. "What's going on?" "Oh, another crazy medical conspiracist..." "She looks so normal, but she's completely unhinged..." Hearing those whispers made my chest tighten. It was happening again. Just like my past life. Everyone thought I was insane. "I am not a psychopath!" I spun around and screamed at the lobby. "My child was stolen! Go investigate the hospital! Investigate Rachel Brooks!" "Ma'am, you need to calm down!" Two officers stepped forward to restrain me. Right at that moment, the hospital delegation arrived. The Vice President of the Women's Clinic walked in, flanked by two corporate lawyers. He looked gravely serious. "Officers, we were notified that someone is publicly and maliciously defaming our hospital. We demand legal intervention." The VP looked at me, his eyes ice-cold. "Mrs. Davis, you caused a massive disturbance at our facility yesterday. We chose not to press charges because we sympathized with your mental distress. But we will not tolerate you escalating this to false police reports." "False reports?" I sneered. "Your OB-GYN department took an $800,000 bribe from my husband to cut me open, force a premature delivery, and steal my child, and you have the audacity to call it a false report?!" The VP's face twitched slightly, but he recovered instantly. "What $800,000? What forced delivery? Mrs. Davis, do you have a shred of evidence for these insane allegations?" "I..." I choked. The $800,000 was discovered by my PI. It was an illicit transfer and wouldn't hold up as immediate hard evidence without a subpoena. And the hospital could easily delete or alter my surgical logs. "An accusation without evidence is defamation," the VP turned back to the police. "We demand you open a case against Mrs. Davis for filing a false police report. Furthermore, our hospital retains the right to sue her for reputational damages." "Exactly, we can't let these crazy patients get away with this!" "She looks so put together, how can she be this insane?" "I heard her husband treats her like a queen. Poor guy." The crowd in the lobby started pointing fingers. Someone even pulled out their phone and started live-streaming me. "Hey chat, look at this psycho at the police station claiming her baby was stolen, when she was never even pregnant!" My entire body was shaking. Not from fear, but from a volcanic, consuming rage. It was exactly the same. Exactly like my past life. They stood on their moral high ground, weaponizing the word "crazy" to turn my trauma into a public spectacle.
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