I went into labor, but my mother looked at me and said, The hospital can wait—dinner comes first. Then my sister laughed and set our car on fire. Another useless human? What’s the point? My 3-year-old son squeezed my hand and whispered, Mom, it’s okay. I’ll protect you. By the next morning, they were crying—begging us to forgive them.

As my contractions started, my mother stayed ice-cold and snapped, Hospital later.

When my labor pains began, my mother didn’t panic—she went cold. “The hospital can wait,” she said sharply. “We’re eating first.” Then my sister burst into laughter and set our car on fire. “Another pointless baby—why bother?” she sneered. I was trembling with fear until my three-year-old son squeezed my hand and whispered, “Mommy, don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.” By the next morning, the same two women were crying and begging for mercy.

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