My Husband Wants My Baby's Blood

I met Logan on May twentieth. We fell in love on May twentieth.

Now, I am pregnant, due in August.

But his mother has made it chillingly clear: we will only get her blessing to buy a marriage license if the baby is a boy.

Logan used to wrap his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder, a soft smile on his face. "Wouldnt it be perfect if our baby was born on May twentieth, too? A complete, beautiful circle."

I thought he was just being a foolish romantic. In May, the baby would only be twenty-four weeks along. A micro-preemie. Delivering a baby that early is practically a death sentence, or at best, a lifetime of machines, developmental delays, and pain. No sane father would wish for that.

Until the afternoon I went to his office to surprise him with lunch.

I stood outside his heavy mahogany door, holding a warm container of honey-glazed pork chops, and heard him talking to his close friend, Dr. Thomas.

"We have to deliver on May twentieth, Thomas. The umbilical cord blood is the only thing that can reverse the rejection in Fionas eyes. Its my gift to herour one-year wedding anniversary present."

"What about Gwen? Its her baby, too. You think shes just going to agree to this?"

The doctors voice was casual, almost bored.

"Its just a baby," Logan replied, his tone light and conversational. "If it survives, it survives. If not, Ill just give her another one later. Besides, the kid is technically a bastard anyway."

"But still"

"Ever since her parents died, she does whatever I tell her to do. Who else does she have to turn to? I buy her a designer bag, and shes happy."

"You make it sound so simple."

"If she makes a fuss, Ill just print out a fake marriage certificate to keep her quiet. Shes too devoted to ever leave me."

Listening to that familiar, smooth voiceso cold yet sounding so gentleI clutched my stomach. I slid down the hallway wall, my knees giving out, sobbing silently into my hands.

He truly believed I had no one left.

That night, my hands shaking, I sent a text to my adoptive brother, Ian, who was living abroad.

This May twentieth, I want to spend it with you.

When I left Logans office building, my legs felt like lead. I walked aimlessly, eventually dragging myself to the private hospital where Fiona was regularly treated.

Fionas corneas belonged to Lydia, Logans deceased first love.

For the past five years, Logan had openly doted on Fiona, claiming he was simply guarding "the last physical relic" Lydia had left in this world. Whenever Fiona so much as complained of a dry eye, Logan would drop whatever he was doingmeetings, dinners, our quiet eveningsand rush to her side.

I used to tell myself: Shes a ghost. Why compete with a dead woman?

But I was wrong. The ghost had handed a living woman a weapon, and she was using it to tear my life apart.

"Yes, ma'am, your husband indeed scheduled an early delivery and a neonatal team for May twentieth..."

The nurses polite voice broke through my thoughts, shattering the last fragile pieces of my denial.

The clinic we were standing in wasn't even my regular OB-GYN.

Everything I had overheard in that office was real. He didn't care about our child. He didn't care about me.

Six years ago, on May twentieth, I met Logan. He was drowning in grief, drinking himself to death after Lydia passed away from stomach cancer.

Five years ago, on May twentieth, we became official. I foolishly believed that with enough patience and warmth, I could slowly heal him and take her place.

Every year on that anniversary, I waited for him to propose, to finally make me his wife. Every holiday, I dutifully visited his mothers house, cooking, cleaning, and acting as her unpaid housekeeper, trying to earn her approval.

But she never gave me a kind look. To her, I was just a convenient, quiet girl who didn't demand a ring.

During the holidays, I would stand in the kitchen for hours preparing a massive family feast, only to find there was no seat left for me at the table. For years, Logan kept one chair empty for Lydia.

Then, two years ago, Fiona sat in that empty chair.

And I was still left standing, eating leftovers by the kitchen counter.

"Gwen, sweetie," Logan had whispered to me back then. "My mother is just old-fashioned. She needs to see a grandson before shes comfortable letting us register our marriage."

And like an idiot, I believed him. I let myself get pregnant.

"Gwen, you just have to cook this one holiday meal so my mother likes you more," hed say. "The rest of the year, Ill do all the cooking."

And he did. For five years, he was incredibly gentle. He never raised his voice, never lost his temper. He was like a calm pool of water, enveloping me in comfort. Whenever I came home exhausted from client dinners, he would have a bowl of warm noodles waiting. He would wash my feet and gently blow-dry my hair.

My friends used to tease me, saying I had found the ultimate devoted partner.

That was why, even when he slipped out in the dead of night to comfort Fiona, I never felt a sense of danger.

I wiped my tears and began packing my bags. I would not let him touch a single hair on my baby's head.

Today was May twelfth. I had eight days left.

My phone buzzed with an instant reply from Ian.

Im flying back tomorrow. Wait for me at home.

My parents were ordinary blue-collar workers, but they had hearts too big for this world. Five years ago, during a massive flash flood in our county, they had volunteered to help evacuate a local school. They managed to pull every single child out of the rising waters, but they never made it back.

I dusted the glass of our old family portrait, the tears starting to fall again.

Dad, Mom, what do I do? Im so scared.

When I was little, whenever I was sad, my dad would magically produce a strawberry hard candy from his pocket, pop it into my mouth, and scoop me up in a giant hug, rocking me until I laughed.

I sat on the living room sofa, clutching the photograph, watching the afternoon sun slowly sink into a gloomy, gray twilight.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

It was Logan.

I felt a visceral wave of revulsion, but I knew I couldn't ruin my chance of escape by acting suspicious.

I pressed answer. Logans voice was as warm and tender as it always was.

"Gwen, where are you? You aren't at the house."

"I was feeling lonely. I came back to my parents' old place to clear my head."

"What do you want for dinner? Ill drive over and cook for you."

"No, don't worry about it. Ill just order"

Before I could finish, a woman's voice whimpered in the background. It was Fiona.

"Gwen, hold on a second. Fiona is calling me."

"Why do I always have to wait?" I asked, my voice trembling with a sudden, sharp edge. "Why can't she wait for once?"

Logan sighed. He sounded patient, like a father dealing with a petulant child. "Fionas eyes are acting up again. I need to make sure she's okay. Shes sick, Gwen. Don't be petty. Can you please just be reasonable?"

Reasonable. Always reasonable.

"Logan, am I your partner, or is she? Who actually matters to you?" I asked, the word bastard echoing in my ears.

"You, of course," he said without a second of hesitation. "Wait for me there. Ill come find you."

He hung up. He probably figured I was just having hormonal pregnancy swings and that a little pampering would fix it.

I stared at the screen. The lock screen was still a photo of us smiling at a beach. It felt like a mockery. I immediately changed it to a default wallpaper and tossed the phone onto the table.

On the other side of town, Logan stared at his phone, hovering over my name on his chat list for a moment before locking his device.

Fiona called out to him again from the hospital bed.

"Logan... it hurts so much. Do you think Lydia is missing you? Is that why her eyes are crying?"

Logans face softened instantly, his brief flash of guilt toward me vanishing. He leaned over her, staring into her eyes with intense devotion. Through Fionas pupils, he was looking at Lydia.

They had only been dating for a month when Lydia was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. He had stayed by her side until her very last breath.

Lydia had smiled at him near the end and said, Logan, I want to donate my corneas. Let someone else see the world for me.

He was so grateful she had left a piece of herself behind. But Fionas body was constantly trying to reject the transplant. When he read a medical article suggesting that compatible stem cells and umbilical cord blood could alleviate transplant rejection, he immediately thought of the baby in my womb. He loved Lydia so deeply that he didn't even care to verify the medical feasibility with other specialists. He just wanted a cure.

After the doctor examined Fiona and assured him she was stable, Logan stood up to leave.

Fiona grabbed his sleeve. "Cant you stay tonight?"

Logan frowned. "I have to cook dinner for Gwen."

"But Im the one whose name is on your marriage certificate," Fiona whispered.

Logan coldly pulled his arm away. "So what? Youre just a vessel for Lydias eyes. Being on that paper is a privilege I granted you. Don't forget your place."

When Logan arrived at my parents' old house, he found me sitting in the dark with tear-stained cheeks. He set the groceries down and immediately went to hug me.

"Gwen, whats wrong? Why are you crying?"

I pushed his arms away. "Don't touch me."

Looking at him, all I could think about was the fact that I had been unknowingly playing the role of the mistress in my own relationship.

Logan didn't get angry. He adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses, his expression calm and gentle. "Okay, I won't touch you. Let me make you some dinner first. What are you craving?"

"How about crispy honey-glazed pork chops? Youve been liking sweet and sour things lately."

I turned my head away, tears slipping silently down my face.

Since we moved in together, he had handled all the domestic chores while I managed his professional life. I used to think I was the lucky one, that I had successfully built a life with him. But now, I realized I didn't even rank above Fiona.

Logan put on his apron and began working efficiently in the kitchen.

If I hadn't overheard his conversation earlier today, I would still be looking at his back, thinking how blessed I was to have such a husband.

Did he truly feel nothing for the child growing inside me?

He had accompanied me to every single ultrasound. We had watched the tiny flicker of a heartbeat grow into a little body with kicking legs. We had spent hours debating names, wondering if the baby would inherit his eyes or my smile.

How could he be so heartless?

He suddenly popped his head out of the kitchen door. "Would you like some bang bang shrimp? I bought some fresh tiger prawns."

"I saw a recipe online saying kids love it. I want to try making it for you first."

"Then, when our little one grows up, Ill make it for them every single day. Well have a big baby and a little baby to feed."

He smiled, his eyes full of tenderness.

He looked exactly like a doting father-to-becompletely different from the man who had coldly declared that the baby "must be delivered on May twentieth."

Whose baby was he actually planning for? Fiona's? Or was he just planning to feed a ghost?

A sudden spark of rage flared in my chest. I stood up, marched into the kitchen, and stood directly in front of him.

The anger I had been suffocating all afternoon finally erupted.

"Logan! Do you have the guts to look me in the eye and tell me what you actually plan to do to my baby?!" I screamed, my voice cracking.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. How dare he stand there and talk about our baby's future?

Logan realized something was seriously wrong. He turned off the burner, set down his spatula, and let his gentle mask slip away.

"Gwen, what did you find out?"

"I know everything!" I sobbed. "I know what you're planning!"

Logan reached out to grasp my shoulders, trying to guide me to a chair. "Sit down. Calm down."

I violently slapped his hands away.

He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. "Did Gwen come to the office today?"

"Yes, Mr. Harley," the assistant stammered. "She dropped off some paperwork, but she left almost immediately."

Logan hung up, his eyes darkening. "So, you heard what Thomas and I were discussing."

"Yes! I heard every single word! You want to sacrifice our baby for a dead girl's eyes!"

Logans face went completely cold. "Calm down, Gwen. I am not killing our child."

"Then tell me you aren't planning to force a C-section on May twentieth!"

Logan went silent.

I let out a harsh, bitter laugh, pulling my messy hair away from my face. "You can't even deny it, can you?"

I held up my hand, counting on my fingers. "On May twentieth, I will only be twenty-four weeks pregnant! How is a baby supposed to survive that?!"

Logan remained entirely unmoved. His voice was steady and quiet, making my rage look like the hysterics of a madwoman.

"Ive already contracted the citys top neonatal intensive care team. Even at twenty-four weeks, they have a high success rate. They will keep the baby alive."

"By keeping them in a plastic incubator? Hooked up to ventilators? Growing up weaker and smaller than every other kid? Spending their childhood in and out of hospitals?" I screamed. "You are the father! How can you be so cruel?!"

A flicker of hesitation crossed Logan's face, but it was quickly replaced by a chillingly rational resolve.

"But what about Lydia's corneas? They are the absolute last piece of her left on this earth. Even if this baby doesn't make it, we can always have another one. A healthier one. Gwen, you've always been the sensible one. Your parents sacrificed their lives to save strangers. Didn't you learn anything from their selflessness? Its just one baby. If it saves Lydias legacy, isn't that worth it?"

I stared at him, utterly dumbfounded, and then I started to laugh.

He was so deeply, pathologically in love with a dead girl that he had lost all touch with humanity.

I had been so naive to think I could ever compete with a ghost.

I ran to the counter, grabbed a heavy kitchen knife, and pointed it directly at his chest.

"If you dare touch my baby, I will kill you myself!"

Logans calm facade finally cracked. "Gwen! Put the knife down! Youre going to hurt yourself!"

I lunged forward in a blind panic, but he easily caught my wrists, twisting them until the knife slipped from my fingers. The blade grazed his cheek as it fell, leaving a thin line of bright red blood.

Before I could scream, my vision went entirely black, and I collapsed.

When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I did was clutch my stomach.

It was still round. The baby was still there.

A figure was sitting quietly by my bedside.

It was my brother, Ian.

He was staring at me, his eyes bloodshot and filled with worry.

"Ian!" I gasped, the tears immediately spilling over.

"Gwen, Im so sorry. I should have come back sooner." He squeezed my hand tightly.

I shook my head. It was my fault for losing my temper and alerting Logan.

Ian had been rescued from a child trafficker by my parents when we were young. Because they could never locate his biological family, my parents legally adopted him. We grew up as siblings, but as we got older, Ian realized he had developed romantic feelings for me. Fearing he would ruin our family dynamic, he chose to keep his distance and eventually moved abroad after finding his biological relatives.

But he was still the only person in this world I could trust implicitly.

"Im taking you away," Ian said, his voice hard. "Youll get a divorce, and I will take care of you and the baby for the rest of my life."

My chest ached. Ian was exactly the same as he had always beenthe moment I called, he appeared, ready to be my shield against the world.

"Ian... I was so stupid."

Years ago, Ian had warned me about Logan. He told me Logan was obsessed with a dead girl, and that competing with a ghost was a losing battle. But I had been too blinded by what I thought was love to listen.

Ian reached out, gently smoothing my hair. "Its okay. No matter what happens, Im here to carry the weight."

I gave him a weak, bitter smile.

But divorce?

I didn't even need to go through a divorce. Ian assumed we were legally married and had simply pushed back the wedding ceremony because of the pregnancy.

"She is my partner. You aren't taking her anywhere."

The door swung open, and Logan walked in, a small band-aid across his cheek.

Ian stood up instantly and threw a heavy, solid punch straight into Logans jaw.

Logan didn't try to dodge. He stumbled back, his lip immediately splitting and bleeding.

"Do you think Gwen has no family left? You think you can just treat her like garbage?" Ian growled, his tall, athletic frame towering over Logan.

Ian didn't know the full details of the C-section plan yet; he only knew Logan had pushed me to a breakdown.

Logan wiped the blood from his mouth, his polite, gentle mask firmly back in place.

"Gwens been having severe mood swings due to the pregnancy. I must have done something insensitive to upset her. Its my fault. Ill make it up to her."

Ian clearly didn't buy a word of it. He had returned to this country with the sole intention of taking me away, and he wasn't about to leave me in this man's hands.

"Ian," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "In my old room back at our parents' house, theres a small wooden box in the closet. It has my childhood toys. Can you go get it for me? I want to save them for the baby."

Ian looked at me, realizing I was trying to get him out of the room so I could speak to Logan alone. He gave me a lingering look, threw a warning glance at Logan, and finally left.

Logan sat down on the edge of my bed. He took an apple from the bedside table and began peeling it, his voice dropping into that familiar, soothing register.

"Gwen, Ive been thinking about what happened last night. I was wrong."

"Lydias corneas are important, but theyre just a physical object. Our baby is a living, breathing miracle. I want to see our child grow up, too."

He placed a slice of the apple into my hand, holding my fingers gently. His eyes were filled with absolute sincerity and remorse.

"Gwen, I want this baby just as much as you do."

"On May twentieth, lets go get our marriage license. Im going to finalize my divorce paper with Fiona immediately. She blackmailed me using her eyes, and I felt obligated to comply. But now I see that you are the only one who matters to me. Youre the one I want to spend my life with."

"Really?" I whispered, my voice trembling.

A wave of desperate hope washed over me, threatening to pull me under. It was so easy to want to believe him.

"I was just panicked yesterday because Fionas doctor said her eye condition was critical," Logan murmured, pulling me close. "And honestly, the babys blood might not even be a match. I would never actually risk our child's life. Gwen, weve been together for five years. Do you really think Im capable of that?"

I stared into his eyes, looking for any sign of a lie.

Then, I let out a sob, burying my face in his chest, crying until I couldn't breathe.

"You terrified me, Logan... I was so scared..."

Logan rubbed my back, letting out a long, quiet sigh. "...I know, sweetheart. I'm so sorry."