To save my father, who was dying of leukemia, I aborted my five-month-old baby and donated my bone marrow. But I accidentally discovered that my younger brother was also a perfect match. Everyone had been lying to me. Later, I was reborn. Reborn to the very day I was supposed to donate my marrow. 1. When I was five months pregnant, my dad was diagnosed with leukemia. Out of our entire family, I was the only one who was a match. My mom fell to her knees on the floor, begging me: "Maya, you can always have another baby later, but you only have one dad." My brother, Noah, called me back-to-back: "Sis, you haven't even met the baby yet. There's no real emotional connection. But Dad raised you for over twenty years." After days of agonizing tears and sleepless nights, I finally made the devastating choice to give up my baby and save my dad's life. Because getting pregnant had been incredibly difficult for me, my husband naturally fought me tooth and nail. Ridden with guilt, I took the initiative and divorced him. Then, without looking back, I went to the hospital. My dad was saved. But as for me? Between the late-term abortion and the bone marrow donation, my health rapidly deteriorated. Eventually, I was too weak to even hold down a basic desk job. I had to quit, moving back into my parents' house, where I spent my days doing laundry and cooking for my mom, dad, and brother. Until one day. I found a medical report tucked inside a drawer. It had my brother Noah's name on it. The conclusion: A Perfect Match. They had been lying to me this whole time. My brother was a viable donor, yet they manipulated me into aborting my baby, destroying my marriage, and living a pathetic, half-dead existence just to protect him. Clutching the report, I stormed out to confront my mom. Blinded by rage, I missed a step. I tumbled down the stairs. But I didn't die. I was reborn. A groggy haze lifted, and the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol flooded my senses. I opened my eyes. I looked around at the stark white walls. It was a scene I knew too well: I was in the hospital, sitting beside my dad's bed. I looked down at my slightly rounded belly, and tears instantly blurred my vision—my baby was still here. Perfect. I had been reborn to the time right before the donation. This time, I will fight to the death to protect what is mine. My mom, Susan, was pacing the hospital room, waving the test results. "Old man, you're saved! I knew Maya would be a match for you!" My dad lay in his bed, his face pale, but a sudden spark of life returning to his eyes. He nodded in deep satisfaction. In a flash, my mom was right in front of me, practically dancing with joy. "Maya, you're the only one in the family who's a match! You are our lucky star! Let's get the doctors to take your marrow right now and save your dad!" she babbled excitedly, her cheeks flushed. I glanced at the report with feigned indifference. Maya Evans, Perfect Match. But looking at it now, it was an absolute joke. I used to think my mom was forced into an impossible corner. That between her unborn grandchild and her husband, she could only choose her husband. That was somewhat understandable. Just like I had agonized over choosing between my child and my father, ultimately leaning toward my father. But now? Not a chance in hell. I stared coldly into my mom's eyes. "But, Mom, I'm pregnant. Donating marrow means I have to abort the baby. Here, touch your grandchild. You're literally asking me to commit murder." I grabbed Susan's hand and forced it onto my belly. She yanked it back like she'd been burned. "What are you doing?! I'm not asking you to kill anyone, I'm asking you to save a life! Maya, you can always have another baby, but your dad... you only have one dad." She started breaking down, her voice escalating into a theatrical wail. It was the exact same script as my past life. Hearing it now was just laughable. "But Dad has more than just me. Shouldn't we take a look at Noah's results?" "What did you just say?" The color instantly drained from my mom's face. "Noah got tested ages ago. He wasn't a match. You know that." "Really? Let me see the report then," I pressed relentlessly. "What are you trying to imply?" My mom's eyes bulged wide. My dad, who had been lying weakly in bed, suddenly struggled to prop himself up, shouting at me: "If you don't want to donate, then get the hell out!" Gladly. I stroked my belly, supported my lower back, and walked out of the hospital room with my head held high. Behind me, I could hear my mom cursing: "You shameless, ungrateful bitch! I always knew we couldn't rely on you." 2. I took an Uber straight to my parents' house. My parents were at the hospital, and my brother was at work. The house was completely empty. Relying on my memories from my past life, I found Noah's compatibility report buried deep in a study drawer. Seeing the truth staring back at me again, an overwhelming wave of grief and rage erupted from my chest. These were my "loving" parents. My "loving" brother. I quickly folded the evidence and shoved it into my purse. Right on cue, Noah's phone call came through. The moment I answered, he started his self-righteous lecture: "Sis, I heard you abandoned Mom and Dad and walked out? Do you have any idea how lost Mom is trying to navigate the billing department by herself? How could you just leave..." I waited for him to finish his long-winded rant before asking, "And what about you? Since Dad got sick, how many times have you actually visited?" "I have to work," he snapped, clearly annoyed. Two years ago, he landed a cushy government job. According to my mom, he brought "honor to our ancestors." He was the golden boy. Since my dad fell ill, Noah hadn't spent a single night at the hospital. I was the one handling the registration, the payments, the medication pickups. "I have a job too. Besides, isn't your government job supposed to be super relaxed?" I wasn't going to coddle him anymore. "Fine, fine. I'll make time to see Dad." Noah quickly pivoted to the real issue. "But I just found out you're a match. You can't just leave him to die." "Noah, you know I'm five months pregnant. The baby won't survive the procedure," I said, playing the emotional card to see his reaction. Noah exploded: "Sis, a five-month-old fetus is just a lump of meat! You haven't even met it yet. What kind of emotional connection could you possibly have? Stop being so dramatic. Dad raised you for over twenty years. Show some conscience." I pretended to sound conflicted. "Let me think about it." "Think about what? What is there to think about?! If I were a match, I would have donated immediately. Would I even need to think about it?" Thank God this was a phone call and not FaceTime, or Noah would have seen the massive, triumphant smirk spreading across my face. "Is that so?" I smiled, snapping a photo of his positive compatibility report and texting it to him. "Then I'll step aside and let you be the hero." I hung up the phone, feeling incredibly liberated. Then I headed back to my own apartment. Right now, my husband, Connor, was probably at home sulking. When my dad was first diagnosed, my mom practically forced everyone we knew to get tested—aunts, uncles, cousins, everyone. She even made Connor, who had absolutely no blood relation, get tested. In the end, she tragically announced that not a single person was a match. The only person left was me. My mom begged me to be the final attempt. Connor, usually the most patient man in the world, lost his temper. "Mom, Maya is pregnant! How can she even get tested? And even if she's a match, what then?" My mom didn't even glance at him. She just kept crying to me: "Maya, just go try. The chances of matching are so slim anyway, so don't worry. But it's the thought that counts. Do you want your dad to die feeling abandoned?" I wavered. Connor stared at me, his eyes red. "Maya, think about this carefully. You know how hard it was for us to get this baby." I knew better than anyone. I had severely blocked fallopian tubes. We had been married for years without getting pregnant. As we approached thirty, everyone around us was anxious. Whenever my in-laws made passive-aggressive comments, Connor always deflected and covered for me. When they pushed too hard, he even lied and said he was the one with fertility issues and was receiving treatment. His parents finally shut up, and never brought up kids in front of us again. But ironically, without the pressure of being hounded for a baby, I miraculously got pregnant this year. Even the fertility doctor we had seen for years was overjoyed for us. I had cried and asked my mom, "Mom, can we wait? Just wait five more months. After I give birth, I'll..." My mom's face turned to ice. "What do you think? With your dad's condition, he can't even wait two months. I'm just asking you to get tested. The odds of matching are tiny, and you're already acting like this. How did I raise such a cowardly daughter? Either you come with me right now, or you're an unfilial disgrace, and you are never stepping foot in the Evans house again." In my past life, she practically dragged me to the hospital by force. Connor sighed in utter defeat. Ultimately, our marriage reached a dead end. I thought that after moving back to my parents' house, they would at least treat me well. I was incredibly naive. My parents were furious. They felt that since I wasn't bringing in any money, I was just a freeloader. From then on, I never saw a single warm smile from them. My mom would say: "When you divorced, why didn't you demand more money? What kind of woman divorces and just leeches off her parents?" My brother complained: "My girlfriend is coming over soon. Sis, you should just go rent a place outside." Even the father whose life I saved with my body chimed in to mock me: "I only have one kidney too, but I'm not nearly as fragile and dramatic as you." Heh. These were my "loving" family members. 3. So, when Connor saw me walk through the door, his eyes widened in absolute shock. He even stammered, "Maya, you... why are you back? Weren't you supposed to stay at the hospital to take care of your dad?" "Why wouldn't I come back? I'm exhausted carrying this baby around, okay? Let Noah and Mom take care of him." My casual, IDGAF attitude seemed completely incomprehensible to Connor. In the past, I would have been running myself ragged back and forth to the hospital despite his hundreds of attempts to stop me. "Actually, you really do need to focus on your own health." Seeing me finally give up on being a martyr, Connor was secretly overjoyed. I tentatively asked, "Honey, I have something to tell you, but you have to promise not to get mad." He nodded. I then told him the truth: I was a match, but my mom was trying to force me to abort the baby to donate my marrow. His jaw practically hit the floor. It was only after I swore up and down that I would never sacrifice our baby that Connor finally let out a massive sigh of relief. He gently pulled me into a hug. "Wife, the fact that you made such a difficult choice... I'm so incredibly moved. I swear, I will use every connection I have to help find a compatible donor for your dad." I rolled my eyes. "Actually... they already found one." I pulled Noah's compatibility report out of my bag and slammed it onto the table. Connor glanced at it, disbelief written all over his face. "This report is dated September 28th. The results came out over a week ago?" "Yep. Exactly." That's right. My parents had known the results for a long time. "Then... then why did they... why did they make you go get tested?" Connor's voice trembled slightly. I flopped onto the sofa, casually popping a cherry into my mouth, completely unfazed. "Simply put, they didn't want Noah to go through the procedure. So they targeted me, fully willing to sacrifice our baby." Connor was furious. If I hadn't stopped him, he probably would have stormed back to the hospital to start a war. "Are they even human?" Connor sounded like he was about to cry. I spat the cherry pit into the trash and said seriously, "You could say they barely resemble humans anymore. But honey, since they had this plan from the start, I don't think they're going to give up easily. You need to stay close and protect me." "As long as I'm here, no one is touching you or our baby." Exactly as I predicted. My mom's phone calls started coming in relentlessly. For the sake of my own peace of mind, I muted my phone entirely. Dozens of 59-second voicemails flooded my inbox in minutes. I didn't even bother listening to a single one. To ensure the safety of my pregnancy, I took an extended leave from work. I stayed indoors, absolutely determined to bring this baby into the world safely. On a bright, sunny weekend, with Connor supporting me, I went downstairs for a walk around the apartment complex. And was immediately ambushed by my mom. I hadn't seen her in days. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were bloodshot. When she saw me, she lunged like a starving wolf. "Maya Evans! What the hell are you trying to do?!" Connor immediately shifted his body, standing like a wall between us, terrified I might get bumped or shoved. "What do you mean?" I asked, keeping my chin high. "Are you really going to stand by and watch him die?! That is your biological father!" Her voice escalated several octaves. The neighbors walking by stopped and stared, eager for some neighborhood drama. I immediately called out her lies. "Mom, stop pretending. Noah is a match too. Go beg him." My mom grew even more enraged. "You don't just want your dad to die, you want to destroy the entire Evans family!" That was a massive accusation. Even I was a bit stunned. Seeing my reaction, my mom suddenly dropped to her knees right there on the pavement. I frowned. "What are you doing? Everyone is watching." She didn't care. She started aggressively bowing, her forehead hitting the stone path. Her voice grew even louder. "My daughter! I'm begging you! Save your father! If he dies, I won't survive either!" 4. A few elderly women who were watching their grandkids nearby felt their gossip sensors tingling and started inching closer. My mom cried even harder. There was even a faint smudge of blood on her forehead. She was really going all out for this performance. Connor and I took a few steps back. We had no interest in playing along with her theatrics. She immediately jumped up, grabbed my arm, and screamed: "You can't leave! Look at this woman, everyone! Her own father is lying in a hospital bed waiting for her to save his life! And she? She's hiding here, refusing to lift a finger!" The elderly women instantly transformed into self-righteous judges, pointing fingers at me. "Young lady, your mother is literally bowing at your feet. This... even God would find this unacceptable." "She looks so pretty, but how can her heart be so ugly?" "You're pregnant! You need to build good karma for the baby in your belly. How can you refuse to save your own parents?" ... The gossipy women unleashed a barrage of judgment. Seeing people taking her side, my mom looked emboldened. But I wasn't intimidated. I looked at the grandmas, my face calm and my heartbeat steady. "My mom wants me to abort my baby to save him. If this were your daughter-in-law, would you agree? Mrs. Miller, I heard your daughter-in-law is pregnant with her second child. If her parents came begging at your door, would you say yes?" I targeted the loudest one in the group. Mrs. Miller practically fled. "Are you crazy?! Why would you curse my family like that?!" Connor stared at my mom with nothing but resentment. "The worst part is, her own son is a perfect match and could donate. But she insists her daughter must kill an unborn child to save him." The other bystanders lost interest in lecturing me and slowly dispersed. My mom sighed, switching to a pleading tone. "Noah... he has a girlfriend. She's the daughter of a high-ranking official. We were planning on him bringing her home this year. The girl's family didn't even mind that your dad was sick. It was such a great match! But when they heard Noah might have to donate marrow, the girl refused to marry him. She was afraid it would damage his health." The moment the words "damage his health" slipped out, my mom looked instantly regretful. I smiled sweetly at her. "So, you're not afraid it will damage my health?" She looked guilty. "That's just ignorant people talking. The doctors said it's perfectly fine." I calmly tore down her logic. "The doctors said it's fine for a young, healthy man. But I am a pregnant woman. Never mind the procedure itself—a late-term abortion is incredibly damaging to a woman's body." Connor stepped forward. "Mom, if Noah's girlfriend isn't willing to risk it, then I am absolutely unwilling to let my wife risk it." "Good heavens! They aren't even married yet! I can't ruin your brother's lifelong happiness!" She wiped her tears and snot, continuing, "But you two are married. We are one family. Your father-in-law is like your own father. What is there to be unhappy about?" "Then aren't you afraid Connor and I will divorce? What about my lifelong happiness?" I asked bluntly. She fell silent for a long time. We turned to leave. But to my surprise, my mom still refused to give up. "But if both men in the house damage their health, how are we supposed to survive? Maya, just help the Evans family out. You always loved your little brother the most when you were kids." My mom desperately clutched my shirt. I violently yanked it out of her grip. "I didn't love him the most; the entire family ONLY loved him. Now, you can finally ask him for a little payback. As for my bone marrow, don't even think about it. I will never agree." My mom stared at me blankly, finally realizing that I truly wasn't going to give her what she wanted. She suddenly started laughing maniacally. "Hahaha, I raised you all these years, and you turn out to be a vicious, ungrateful snake. Do you really think you're going to carry that baby to term? Aren't you afraid of a sudden miscarriage? Aren't you afraid you'll give birth to an idiot or a cripple?!" 5. Hearing her violently curse my unborn child, my heart pounded wildly, and my ears started ringing. I could barely stay on my feet. Seeing I was unwell, Connor immediately supported me and started walking me back inside. My mom tried to stick to me like a leech again. Connor threw his arm out to block her. "Ouch!" My mom conveniently collapsed to the ground. "My foot! My foot!" She kept screaming that her foot hurt so much she couldn't stand up. Connor instinctively reached out to help her up. She refused, lying flat on the pavement. The HOA board members had been watching us ever since my mom started causing a scene. Seeing her fall, they were afraid someone might actually get hurt, so they quickly called an ambulance. As my mom was being loaded onto the stretcher, groaning dramatically, she still managed to reach out and grab both me and Connor. "Don't let them leave. They pushed me." We went with her to the hospital. A fractured toe. The doctor said she could be admitted or recover at home. My mom insisted on being admitted. The doctor cast a slightly sympathetic glance at us. My mom snapped: "What are you looking at? My son-in-law pushed me. It's only right that they take care of me." Connor defended himself: "Mom, I swear I didn't push you. You bumped into me yourself." "What are you implying?!" Although her toe was broken, her upper body was still as fierce as ever. She grabbed Connor by the collar and screamed, her spit flying directly into his face. "Are you saying I don't care about my own life? That I would joke around with my own safety?!" The doctor quickly intervened. "Ma'am, please keep your voice down in the hospital." My mom rolled her eyes at him and settled comfortably into the hospital bed. For the next few days, we had no choice but to take care of my mom. But my dad still needed someone too, so we had to hire a private nurse for him. I reluctantly footed the bill. I had no choice. Both the elderly people were bedridden. Honestly, all I wanted was to live my life in peace. I didn't care about the money. I didn't want to get tangled up in their drama anymore. A few days later, my mom was discharged—or more accurately, she was "kicked out" by the hospital. Hospital beds were in high demand, and my mom spent every night loudly video-chatting with my dad, severely disturbing the other patients in her room. I thought the ordeal was finally over and that Connor and I's night-shift nursing duties were finished. Who could have predicted that my mom would pull another ruthless stunt? She called my husband directly. "Connor, let me tell you this. You pushed me and broke my bone. I've already consulted a lawyer. It counts as an assault, and you can face criminal charges. It's up to you. If Maya still refuses to donate her marrow, you can go straight to jail." Connor had put the call on speakerphone. Listening to her, my face burned with intense shame—this was actually my mother. Connor was just as fierce. He fired back immediately: "Even if I go to jail, I will never let Maya do it. Give up that fantasy." My mom cursed him as an "ungrateful bastard" and viciously hung up the phone. Not long after, we received a court summons. Accompanied by my brother and a lawyer, my mom sat at the plaintiff's table, tearfully accusing us. "Your Honor, I just went to see my daughter to ask her to visit her sick father. And what happened? My son-in-law wasn't happy about it. He violently shoved an old woman like me, and I instantly collapsed in excruciating pain." The lawyer submitted the ambulance dispatch record, the hospital medical records, and the injury report as evidence. Seeing that we, the defendants, hadn't even hired a lawyer, he flashed a smug, guaranteed-victory smile. Back when my mom was still in the hospital and cursing Connor every day, I had gone down to the building management office in front of her. I requested they pull the security footage from that specific corner to prove Connor's innocence. But the management told me explicitly: that area was a blind spot for the cameras. My mom had heard that too. So now, she believed she could completely fabricate this crime against Connor just by acting. 6. Unbothered and unhurried, I presented my witness and evidence. I spoke calmly and clearly: "When the incident occurred, we were indeed in a camera blind spot. However, that doesn't mean no one recorded the truth." That day, my mom's behavior was completely unhinged. Not only did she attract the attention of the elderly women strolling downstairs, but she also caught the attention of Jessica on the second floor of the building across from us. Gossip is human nature. Jessica happened to be free that day, doing yoga in front of her floor-to-ceiling windows. When she saw my mom's theatrical performance, she completely forgot her poses. She immediately grabbed her phone and started recording. The video clearly showed that Connor was only protecting me, blocking the space between me and my mom. It was my mom who charged forward, slammed into Connor, stumbled, and fell to the ground. From beginning to end, Connor didn't make a single aggressive move. I knew my mom too well. Thank God I had a backup plan. When I found out there were no security cameras, I was worried my mom would try something malicious. So, I immediately posted in the community Facebook group asking for help. I asked if anyone had witnessed the argument and begged them to come forward as a witness. Jessica immediately added me on WhatsApp and sent me the video. "So that's what was happening with your family. That old lady's acting skills are Oscar-worthy." Jessica had a strong sense of justice and was more than willing to testify in court. So, in the courtroom, the evidence was ironclad. My mom, however, refused to accept it, screaming: "They live in the same apartment complex! They know each other! She's obviously covering for them!" My brother, sitting next to her, added with an eye roll: "Who knows if that video was deepfaked." The judge repeatedly yelled "Order in the court," but couldn't stop them from shouting. I saw the opposing lawyer helplessly massage his temples—this paycheck is not worth the headache. The witness, Jessica, stated proudly: "I am fully willing to bear legal responsibility for the evidence I provided. If the video is authentic, do you have the courage to admit you are committing perjury?" Finally, the judge ruled that Connor was not at fault. As we walked out of the courthouse, my mom and brother were waiting for us on the steps outside. My mom's jaundiced eyes were filled with pure venom. "Consider yourselves lucky this time. But there's always a next time. Oh, I forgot to tell you. The doctor said your dad's condition is stabilizing. He can hold out for another three months." Of course, I understood her underlying threat—for the next three months, she would use every vile tactic imaginable to destroy us. My brother stood nearby, speaking with passive-aggressive sarcasm. "Sister, I really don't understand what you're holding onto. Does turning this family into a warzone make you happy?" My mom spat on the ground. "To me, she's not even a part of this family anymore. She just loves causing chaos. She fed her conscience to the dogs." I didn't let their words faze me at all. I brushed past them and kept walking. When we got home, Connor looked deeply regretful. "Maya, I'm actually terrified thinking about it now. If we didn't have that video evidence, I would have been completely screwed. And the scariest part is, if I went to jail and wasn't by your side, I'm afraid they would resort to physical violence against you. Why don't I send you away for a while? You can go stay with my parents out of state." I refused. Their shameless actions had officially crossed my bottom line. I wasn't going to let them off the hook that easily. So I said firmly, "I'm not going anywhere. From now on, I'm facing them head-on. No, wait... I'm taking the offensive." "What are you going to do? Don't do anything rash. I'm worried you'll overexert yourself. Your health is the most important thing," Connor said, frantic with worry. "Don't worry. I absolutely will not make a move unless I know both me and the baby are completely safe," I assured him. To kill a snake, you must strike its heart. No one understood Susan and Robert Evans better than me. Their most precious heart was naturally Noah. They would rather jump through endless hoops and cause massive destruction than force Noah to draw a single tube of blood. The most ridiculous part was, when they hid that compatibility report, they didn't even tell Noah about it. They did it to ensure Noah wouldn't bear a single ounce of psychological guilt. Well then, I was going to target their precious golden boy. 7. I set up a poll on an online forum and bought some promoted traffic to boost its visibility. "An elderly father dying of leukemia VS A baby conceived after six years of struggling with infertility. To save the father, you must abort the child to donate bone marrow. Who do you choose to save?" To be honest, it was a genuinely grueling ethical dilemma. The vote ratio hovered around 50/50, and the comments section was an absolute warzone. Neither side could convince the other. "No one is more important than my parents. I would only choose to save my father." "Trying to get pregnant for 6 years? Ladies, if the poster aborts this child, she might never be able to conceive again for the rest of her life." "Upstairs, is a fetus really that important?" "I'm a mother, and I would probably choose the child. Looking at it from another angle, the father is older and has lived a full life, but the child hasn't even seen the world yet." ... I sat in front of my computer, watching the comment count rapidly climb, closing in on 2,000 comments. On the third day, I decided to host a live stream. Simultaneously, I announced my personal answer to the public. "Poster, is this a real situation you are currently facing?" the viewers in the live stream asked curiously. I admitted it: "Yes. I am currently over five months pregnant. It truly took six years of struggling to finally conceive. However, very unfortunately, my father was diagnosed with leukemia." Instantly, the live chat flooded with messages of comfort and sympathy. I faked a sorrowful, bitter smile. "However, this situation has already been properly resolved." The viewers immediately pressed for my decision. I said: "Thank you all for your concern. I don't have to choose anymore, because my younger brother is also a perfect match." I pulled out the medical report and displayed it on the live stream. I didn't even bother to cover Noah's name. Yes, I did that on purpose. I continued: "But right now, my mom and brother are probably wrestling with the decision. After all, donating bone marrow is no small matter, and it does take a toll on the body..." Someone in the chat immediately corrected me: "For a healthy adult male, donating a few hematopoietic stem cells is perfectly safe. He'll recover in a few days." Someone else commented: "Even if it did affect his health, he has to save his own dad! The poster is pregnant and still stressing over her father." And then, someone noticed: "Wait... this brother, Noah Evans... I think he's a coworker at my agency." This live stream hit around 20,000 viewers. After logging off, I sent the live stream replay to a few friends, asking them to spread it as aggressively as possible. We live in a relatively small city. Even a minor piece of gossip can become common knowledge overnight. So a story like this? How could people not relish the drama? Then, I turned off my phone and went to sleep peacefully. When I woke up the next morning, my phone showed over a dozen missed calls. All from my mom and brother. What was going on? Back when they were begging me to donate marrow, they only called about 7 times a day. Are they really this impatient? My mom called again, and I answered without hesitation. "Maya Evans, what the hell are you trying to do?! You are going to drive your brother to suicide! If anything happens to your brother, you won't survive either! I will drag you to hell with me!" I smiled and said: "What's wrong? Escalating straight to murder and arson? I haven't done anything." My mom screamed: "You haven't done anything?! Right now, everyone is pressuring your brother to donate marrow! Strangers are calling his phone! He's being driven insane!" I said nonchalantly: "Then he should just donate it." "He's been terrified of pain since he was a kid! And he still needs to get married and have kids to carry on the Evans family bloodline..." My mom's shrieks continued piercing through the phone speaker. To protect my eardrums, I held the phone far away from my ear. "You guys figure it out yourselves. One is your husband, the other is your son. Either way, it has nothing to do with me," I said dismissively.
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