Only One On The Scan, But I Heard Two

In the quiet of the ultrasound room, I heard my two babies arguing.
A soft, sweet voice whimpered, [Sister, you’re squishing me.]
A fierce one shot back, [Back off, this is my space!]
My heart leaped. “Is it twins?” I asked the doctor, my voice trembling with excitement.
But the doctor only glanced at my husband standing behind me before shaking his head. “Mrs. Sterling, you’re mistaken. There’s only one gestational sac.”
My husband, Ethan, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, his voice a warm smile. “See? You’re so excited you’re seeing things.”
Was I?
But I had clearly heard that fierce little voice sneer, [He knows what’s good for him. If he’d spilled the beans, Dad wouldn’t have let him get away with it.]

1
Back home, I sat on the sofa, the words he knows what’s good for him echoing in my mind.
Dad?
Which dad?
I rested a hand on my stomach, my palm cold as ice. A terrible thought began to take root in the pit of my stomach.
Ethan walked over with a glass of warm milk, placing it gently beside my hand.
“What’s wrong? Still thinking about twins?” he murmured. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you. The doctor said there’s just one. Let’s focus on keeping this one healthy and safe.”
His smile was so tender, his eyes filled with the same adoration I’d fallen in love with.
I lowered my gaze to hide the chill in my own eyes and obediently picked up the glass.
[Hypocrite.]
Lifting the milk, I asked with feigned casualness, “Ethan, a friend of mine is pregnant too, and she’s having twins. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we had two babies?”
I watched his face, refusing to miss a single flicker of emotion.
For a fraction of a second, the hand holding his own glass tightened. It was almost imperceptible.
“Twins are too high-risk,” he said, his voice still gentle but strained around the edges. “All I want is for you and our baby to be safe.”
I looked down, a cold, invisible smile touching my lips.
I see.
That night, I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep.
Ethan tiptoed into the room, assuming I was lost to the world. He stood by the bed for a long time, so long that my facade almost cracked. Then, I felt his cool fingers rest on my belly.
It wasn’t the loving touch of a father-to-be.
His fingers moved with the cold precision of an assessment, tracing my skin inch by inch, as if he were measuring, calculating.
I went rigid, not daring to breathe.
The soft, sweet voice whimpered again, full of tears. [Sister, I’m scared…]
The fierce, masculine voice was instantly reassuring. [Don’t be. I’m here.]
Then, he spoke to the other baby in my womb. [You’d better lie low, too. Don’t let him find you.]
My heart plummeted.
Him?
Who was him?
Ethan?
What could he find?
Just then, I heard Ethan let out the softest sigh, a sound thick with regret, before he turned and left the room.
My eyes flew open. I touched the spot where his hand had been. It was cold as stone.
Two days later, Ethan presented me with a new phone.
“Less radiation. It’s better for the baby,” he said with a smile.
I stared at the basic feature phone, capable of nothing more than calls and texts, and laughed inwardly.
Less radiation, or easier to monitor?
He took my old smartphone and, with practiced ease, wiped it clean. “Out with the old, in with the new.” He said it so casually, as if he were just throwing out trash.
My heart sank a little deeper.
A few days after that, my mother-in-law—the matriarch of the Sterling family—moved into our villa. She didn’t come alone. She brought an entire entourage: a nutritionist, a nanny, and two stone-faced bodyguards.
The official reason was to take better care of me.
“Ava, from this day forward, your meals will be prepared by Mrs. Davis. She is the best prenatal nutritionist in the field,” my mother-in-law announced from the sofa, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I looked at the woman, Mrs. Davis, who pushed her glasses up her nose, her eyes sharp and clinical.
My life was no longer my own.
I couldn’t go out. I couldn’t see my friends. My world had shrunk to the walls of this house.
Ethan came home every evening, showering me with affection and concern.
But to my ears, his sweet words were coated in poison.

2
The fierce baby seemed to sense the escalating danger.
[That old witch is up to no good.]
[She’s putting something in your soup. Small doses, but she never stops.]
My hand, holding the soup bowl, was steady as a rock. I even managed a placating smile for my mother-in-law. “Thank you, Mother. The soup is delicious.”
As I drank, I watched her from the corner of my eye. A satisfied smile spread across her lips.
I tilted my head back and finished every last drop.
Then, excusing myself to the bathroom, I ran inside, jammed my fingers down my throat, and forced myself to throw it all up. I didn’t stop until my stomach was empty, heaving with nothing but bitter acid. I collapsed onto the cold tile floor.
I couldn’t just wait for them to act.
I had to contact the outside world.
I remembered a spare phone I’d hidden in an old suitcase, tucked away in the back of my walk-in closet.
During a shift change for the bodyguards, I slipped into the closet and locked the door. I found the phone. Thank God, it still had a charge. My hands trembled as I dialed my best friend, Zoe.
She picked up on the first ring.
“Hello? Ava?”
The moment I heard her voice, tears welled in my eyes.
“Zoe, I…”
I only managed to get two words out before the closet door was kicked open.
My mother-in-law stood in the doorway, flanked by her two bodyguards, a glacial smile on her face.
“Ava. Who are you calling?”
She advanced on me, the sharp click-clack of her heels on the hardwood floor echoing the frantic hammering of my heart. I instinctively tried to hide the phone behind my back.

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