Benevolent Heart Hospital.

Gynecology clinic.

“Cecilia Cripps!”

A nurse stepped out with the day’s list in hand.

On the long blue bench by the wall, a young girl slowly stood up. Her head was lowered, long dark hair sliding down on both sides of her face, almost blocking most of her features.

Click.

The clinic door closed behind her as she entered. Cecilia sat on the consultation chair, lifting her head only after a moment, looking nervously at the middle‑aged doctor in a white coat.

“Hello… I’m, um, Cecilia Cripps.”

The gynecologist, well‑known in Benevolent Heart Hospital, paused for a second, clearly startled by her appearance.

She saw dozens of patients every single day, barely took holidays, and had long since gotten used to all kinds of faces—pretty girls, ordinary ones, even some little celebrities.

But the girl sitting in front of her now… was pretty enough to make even her blank out for a heartbeat.

Even with exhaustion written all over her and lips looking a bit pale, that palm‑sized face still looked delicately beautiful. Her features were as if carved by hand: soft, clean lines, eyes bright and clear like polished glass, a straight nose, and lips with a gentle curve…

Honestly, it felt like the universe had gone all‑in when creating her.

“D‑Doctor, um… my body…”

Cecilia waited, but the doctor stayed dazed, so she could only whisper again.

The doctor snapped back to reality, looking embarrassed as she lowered her head. She double‑checked the test sheet as if she needed confirmation before she finally said, “Cecilia Cripps, you… are pregnant.”

P… pregnant?!

Cecilia’s eyes widened instantly. She held her breath, fingers gripping the armrest as she forced herself not to fall apart right then and there.

“Is… is that real? Could it be… a mistake?”

Impossible. She couldn’t… she just couldn’t be pregnant.

But the doctor only shook her head. “It’s accurate. We ran your blood HCG, and the ultrasound too. You’re already seven weeks along.”

Seven weeks…

Which meant… two months ago…

Cecilia Cripps thought back to that pitch‑black room, and her eyes instantly filled with tears.

She had clearly taken the morning‑after pill… so why, why was she still pregnant?!

“Doctor, I… I don’t want this baby…”

She finally managed to steady herself a little, though her voice was still shaking.

Everything had happened too fast. She didn’t even have the space to think through what felt off. The only thing echoing in her head was that she absolutely could not keep this child.

The doctor paused, stunned for a second, but then calmly nodded. “I understand how you feel. But… are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

As a gynecologist at Benevolent Heart Hospital, she saw scenes like this almost every day—girls coming in for a checkup, finding out they were pregnant, then saying they didn’t want the baby. She’d gotten used to it long ago.

Saving lives was her job, yes, but helping patients solve their problems was too.

And it was obvious that the child in Cecilia’s belly was exactly what was haunting her.

But when the doctor looked at Cecilia’s pale, delicate face, then remembered the test results she’d just read, she still couldn’t help wanting to persuade her. Young people acted on impulse, and if Cecilia regretted it someday, that regret would be irreversible.

“Yes, doctor. I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want this baby.”

Cecilia’s hands curled into tight fists, pressing hard against her legs as if she could force her trembling to stop.

“I understand your choice,” the doctor said gently, “but as your physician, I still need to explain your report to you clearly.”

She slid the ultrasound sheet toward Cecilia, her tone soft. “You’re carrying twins. And both fetuses are healthy.”

Twins?!

Cecilia’s mind went blank.

She had never even considered that after *that night*, she would end up pregnant—let alone with naturally conceived twins, something that practically never happened.

Seeing her dazed expression, the doctor sighed with a trace of pity.

“Naturally conceived twins are very rare. I’ve been practicing for over twenty years and have barely seen cases like this. You really are a lucky girl.”

Lucky?

Yeah. Right.

Cecilia Cripps couldn’t stop that wave of bitterness and shame crawling up her chest.

While she stayed quiet, the doctor went on, her voice calm but firm. “Also, your situation is a bit special. According to your blood test, your type is RH negative. It’s what we call ‘panda blood’—really rare. If you choose surgery right now, and anything unexpected happens, it could seriously affect your health.”

“How… affect?” Cecilia blurted out, her voice tight.

“It might mean you won’t be able to get pregnant again in the future. And possibly… it could even put your life at risk.”

The doctor didn’t sugarcoat it; she laid out the worst scenario straight.

Cecilia felt her whole body go weak. For a second, this ridiculous thought flashed through her mind—maybe it’d be easier to just die on that operating table. After all… after that night, she’d already lost everything. What was the point of holding on?

But then…

Her mother’s last words, those soft yet heavy hopes, rang in her ears like someone knocking on an old bell over and over.

“Cecilia, even if Mom isn’t here anymore, you have to keep living…”

“May you stay kind… stay strong… may you meet someone who truly loves you, and live your life with goodness and happiness…”

Mom… what am I supposed to do?!

Cecilia suddenly covered her face with both hands, stifling sobs that broke out anyway. That weight on her chest—she’d been dragging it for so long—and today it felt like it was finally going to crush what was left of her shattered heart.

The doctor sighed softly. She didn’t ask what had happened; she didn’t push. She just stood up and gently patted Cecilia on the shoulder.

“Come with me.”

Cecilia forced herself to steady her breathing, wiped her eyes, and followed the doctor into a small room next to the consultation office.

Inside were medical devices, a monitor, and a single examination bed.

Under the doctor’s instructions, Cecilia lay down, lifted her shirt to reveal her stomach, and felt something cool and slick being applied. Then the doctor picked up a probe and began moving it across her flat abdomen.

Suddenly, static crackled from the monitor speaker.

The doctor spoke slowly, as if guiding her through it. “This is near your uterus.”

Cecilia seemed to realize what that meant. Her first instinct was to pull away—but she still strained her ears, unable to stop herself from listening.

Right then, the probe paused on one spot…

A faint, rhythmic sound slipped through all the static.

“Thump… thump… thump…”

“That’s their heartbeat,” the doctor said, her tone calm and steady. “They’ve already developed it, though it’s still really hard to pick up right now.”

On the bed, Cecilia Cripps finally broke. Tears streamed down her face like she couldn’t hold them back anymore.

…

In the Cripps family home, the room was pitch‑black.

Cecilia lay on her bed, dressed in a soft lilac silk nightdress, staring blankly at the ceiling as if her mind had shut down. After a long moment, she slowly raised her right hand and placed it on her lower belly, her fingers moving gently, like she was trying to find… something.

But she felt nothing at all.

Cecilia suddenly started doubting everything. Were they really inside her?

At the hospital, she had basically bolted out the door, panicked and overwhelmed. Once she made it home, she locked herself in her room and didn’t dare step out again.

It wasn’t until deep into the night, when she jolted awake from a foggy, restless sleep, that the truth finally hit her—none of it was a nightmare. It was all real.

And then that night…

How did she end up pregnant with twins?

The memory of that night two months ago surged back, unstoppable.

All because she’d accidentally overheard her stepmother trash‑talking her mom, calling her a home‑wrecker. Rage had blinded her. And then her spoiled stepbrother had chosen that exact moment to mess with her. In one furious motion, she shoved him.

And after that…

Somehow, he fell from the second‑floor balcony. Her stepmother and her stepsister came at her screaming and hitting, their voices shrill and hysterical. They beat her so badly she lost consciousness.

Just before her eyes completely shut, she could swear she saw Crystal Cripps smiling—cold, vicious, and downright cruel.

That night was the kind of pain that carved itself straight into her bones.

Cecilia Cripps could still recall how her legs were shaking when she dragged herself into the bathroom, only to be greeted by the wreckage that was her own face.

The bruises under her eyes were so dark and swollen they almost looked bigger than her actual eyes. Her lids puffed up like over‑steamed buns, and those peach‑blossom eyes she’d inherited from her mother had completely vanished—replaced by bulging, watery fish eyes. Half her cheek was swollen into a lopsided mound, and at the corner of her lip, a dried, cracked scab sealed a split that stung every time she breathed.

Yeah… she looked awful. Straight‑up unrecognizable.

She didn’t dare linger in that room any longer. She scrubbed herself clean as fast as she could, threw back on the clothes she’d worn coming in, and rushed out.

But before leaving, she grabbed the brooch that had fallen from someone’s coat—the one that had been pinned right at chest level.

It was an elegant piece, shaped like a swirling cloud, its center cut out and set with a black gemstone. Cecilia clutched it so tightly her palm went numb, the sharp edges digging in until it hurt enough to remind her—don’t forget this moment, don’t forget the rage, the humiliation, the hate blazing in her chest.

She ran. Practically bolted out of that room, her steps uneven and shaky, speeding up every time the corridor lights flickered overhead. If her legs hadn’t been trembling like jelly, she probably would’ve sprinted out of there like it was a hundred‑meter dash.

Her memory snapped off right there.

Now, tears streamed down Cecilia’s face, soaking a small patch on her pillow. She sniffed hard, curling into herself, hugging her arms around her body. She looked like a small, wounded animal, trembling and crying in tiny, muffled bursts that almost seemed to choke her.

And just then, her bedroom door was suddenly flung open.