I Was in Labor With a 10-Pound Baby, But My Doctor Husband Forced Natural Birth to Punish Me—Then He Walked In, Saw the Blood, and Collapsed
The contraction hit like a wave of pure fire.
Elena’s back arched off the delivery bed so hard the thin hospital mattress groaned beneath her. Sweat soaked through the blue gown until it clung to her skin like a second, wet layer. Her dark hair stuck to her forehead and neck in tangled strands. The fluorescent lights above her felt like they were burning into her skull.
“Preston…” Her voice cracked. “He can’t fit… please…”
Dr. Preston Pierce stood at the foot of the bed in his surgical scrubs, gloved hands hanging at his sides. His handsome face was completely expressionless. He did not look at her eyes. He looked somewhere past her left shoulder, as if she were already a case file instead of his wife of four years.
“Turn off the epidural,” he said.
The words were quiet. Final. Cold enough to freeze the air in the room.
The anesthesiologist hesitated for half a second. Preston’s eyes finally moved, sharp and dangerous.
“I said turn it off.”
Elena felt the residual numbness begin to fade almost immediately, replaced by a raw, tearing agony that made her vision white out at the edges. She tried to reach for Preston’s arm.
“Please… just a little more… I can’t—”
Khloe stepped forward from the corner of the room. The young intern’s eyes were already glistening with perfect, rehearsed tears. She placed a delicate hand on Preston’s forearm.
“She only knocked over my tray because she’s in so much pain,” Khloe said softly, voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. “She didn’t mean to, Dr. Pierce. She’s just… not handling it well.”
Elena stared at the girl in pure disbelief.
Khloe. The same intern who had been shadowing Preston for the last eight months. The same intern who always seemed to be in the right place at the right time whenever Elena visited the hospital. The same intern whose perfume Elena had smelled on Preston’s coat more than once.
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Three nurses moved in without needing another order.
Strong hands pressed Elena’s shoulders and legs down against the bed. The metal rails dug into her sides. She stopped fighting. Instead, she wrapped both hands around the solid steel rail on her right side and held on as if it were the only real thing left in the world.
