Strangers In Romance

Chapter 5: Hers and Hers

"Via Sinclair?"

Oh God. . .

I buried myself in whatever warmth I was surrounded with, not wanting to be disturbed.

"You're staring at the wall. Are you okay? Should I call the psych ward? It's a joke, of course."

I snapped out of my reverie and looked upon a woman who was approaching my hospital bed. A nurse, bringing me a small bundle. No, no, no.

"Here's your child," she said. "A healthy baby girl."

"So that wasn't a dream?" I croaked. "About giving birth to a baby in the emergency room?"

"Of course not. Here she is."

Put it back, I wanted to say, in whatever hole it came from. The only problem was it came from my own hole.

"But—"

"What will you name her?"

"I-I don't know yet. What about food? What should I give her?"

"Oh, she'll need to breast feed."

Breastfeed? Like, suck on my nipples?

My breathing got strained, making the nurse look worried. "Look, I know this is a lot to take in, especially since. . ." She searched for words. "The father's not here."

It's a mother.

"I know this is quite unusual, b-but can you give me some kind of crib?" I said, avoiding looking at the baby in the nurse's arms. "I don't know if I can hold her yet."

"But the—"

"Please? I'll hold her when I'm ready."

"Sure."

The nurse left with the child. Meanwhile, I made sure the door was closed before I pulled my shirt up and squeezed my boobs. Nothing.

There was no breast milk yet. It wasn't even sore.

How long would it take for milk to come out? I shivered with my own question. But more importantly. . . I spread my legs and tried to look down. I was a bit sore from pushing the child out, but what kind of damage was there?

"Unbelievable," I murmured, looking below. There wasn't even damage. Shouldn't there be tearing, scratching, rawness, and all that?

If I expelled such a big matter, I wouldn't be unscathed. Would I?

Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe another woman got pregnant. But they needed a mother so desperately, and so when I had constipation, they chose me as a vessel.

I wanted to slap myself with such absurd thoughts. A vessel? What was I thinking of?

Throwing the blankets off, I got into proper clothes. There was only one way to find out. Maybe I should review the scene of the crime.

Strangely, the sore sensation seemed to vanish in every step. Every minute. Every passing second. It was like I didn't get pregnant. Because of this, I was convinced more and more that this was a big mistake.

Still, I was taught from a young age to see the facts. My father, who was a bright man, insisted on such.

Speaking of which, I shivered for the second time as I tried to find my way into the hospital's monitoring system. If my family found out. . . No. They wouldn't. And besides, that was why I was about to check the CCTV records. This could be a sham.

An older guy who looked bored out of his mind stared at me once I entered the room. "Err, Miss," he said, chewing his gum. "The modeling pageant's on the other side of the city."