I instinctively called Ian.
After one or two rings, the cold mechanical voice on the phone gradually turned into a busy tone.
I gritted my teeth and directly called the ambulance.
The severe pain was unbearable. I fainted directly.
When I woke up again, the unpleasant smell of disinfectant filled my nose.
I turned my head to see Ian looking at me with a gloomy expression.
He was surrounded by deep anger, seemingly ready to strangle me at any moment.
When he saw me awake, his eyes moved slightly.
He was wrapped in immense anger and gritted his teeth as he asked, "Did you abort our child?"
Faced with his anger, I appeared calm and composed.
I moved my dry throat and softly said, "Mm."
"What right did you have to abort him? He was my child too!"
Rarely, he actually argued about this.
In four years of marriage, he never asked me about having children. Even when his parents urged me to have a child, he always jumped in first and said, "We're still young. There's no rush to have kids now."
So, I always thought he didn't like children.
"Speak up, Clara!"
Hearing his angry roar, I said calmly, "Because I think your mom was right. Bad genes are hereditary. I don't want my child to be like you."