Chapter 7 — My Mother-in-Law Forced Me to Give Birth at Home

Cut the live stream and call the police immediately.

Right as chaos erupted in the hallway, a piercing scream suddenly tore through the adjacent delivery waiting room. A pregnant woman was clutching her stomach, crying out in agony while her husband stood by, his face drained of all color.

That older woman out there just told us that labor contractions are completely normal and warned us not to constantly bother the nurses, the husband stammered, his voice trembling with panic.

A nurse rushed into the room, hastily connected the fetal heart monitor, and her expression instantly shifted to sheer terror.

Fetal heart rate is dropping rapidly! Call the doctor, now!

The husband finally understood the gravity of the situation. He bolted out into the hallway, pointed directly at Chun Binh, and roared in fury, What the hell is wrong with you? You almost murdered my wife and child!

Every sound in the corridor abruptly died away. Those who had just been defending Chun Binh slowly lowered their heads in shame. They were finally forced to witness just how terrifying those so-called years of seasoned experience could actually be. When the police finally arrived, Chun Binh was still stubbornly trying to justify her actions.

I was merely reminding them not to be scammed by these hospitals, she muttered defiantly.

Nghien Chu stepped forward and stood directly before her, his eyes completely devoid of warmth, reflecting only a chilling emptiness.

Mother, stop this right now, he said flatly.

Chun Binh lunged forward, desperately grabbing at his sleeves. Nghien Chu, I am your mother!

Nghien Chu took a deliberate step backward, putting distance between them. She is my wife.

And the child inside her is my flesh and blood, too.

You nearly killed both of them.

As she was hauled away by the authorities, Chun Binh kept craning her neck, staring fixedly toward the operating room doors. I did not hear what insults she was hurling at me, nor did I have any desire to listen. Before administering the anesthesia, Dr. La bent down, looked gently into my eyes, and spoke in a reassuring tone.

Do not be afraid. We will do everything in our human power to ensure both you and your baby are safe.

I gazed up at the glaring surgical lights, softly resting a hand against my belly. My dearest child, this time, we will make it out of here together.

The moment a newborn infant's robust cry echoed through the theater, hot tears slipped down my temples and vanished into my hair.

It is a healthy baby boy, weighing three thousand five hundred grams.

A nurse carefully carried the baby over, holding him close to my face. The little infant was wrinkled and red, his tiny fists clenched tightly as he wailed at the top of his lungs. I watched his fragile chest heave up and down, witnessing firsthand that he was alive and breathing. In that exact fraction of a second, the suffocating atmosphere of the blood-stained bedroom from my past life finally drifted away, receding just a little bit. Dr. La later told me that fortunately, they had not delayed a single minute longer. During the procedure, the medical team discovered that the umbilical cord placement was indeed perilously dangerous. Had they waited any longer, the consequences would have been unthinkable. Outside the operating theater, upon hearing the news that both mother and child had survived safely, Nghien Chu had collapsed against the hallway wall, sobbing openly like a helpless child. When I finally woke up in the recovery ward, he was sitting quietly by my bedside, his eyes severely bloodshot while he absentmindedly turned our baby's tiny knitted cap over and over in his hands.

Tang Duong, I am so sorry, he choked out.

Over the past few days, he had repeated those words of apology countless times. But this time, I did not offer him the usual reassurance that it was fine. Instead, I looked straight at him and asked, If I had not dialed the emergency number myself, would you have even known what was happening?

He remained silent for a long, agonizing stretch.

No, I would not have, he whispered.

Without the recordings, the videos, and the prenatal checkup reports as concrete proof, would you have ever believed that your own mother was capable of going this far?

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Honestly, I probably would not have.

I slowly closed my eyes. Then do not rush to demand my forgiveness. I need time, and I need boundaries.

Nghien Chu nodded heavily, accepting my terms. I understand. I have already consulted a lawyer. Once you are discharged from the hospital, we are not returning to the old family home. We will go straight to a postpartum care center, and after that, we will move into a brand-new place. As for my mother, whatever the police and the hospital decide to do with her, let them handle it. I will not seek any leniency on her behalf.

Hearing those words finally loosened the tight, agonizing knot that had been constricting my heart for days. Chun Binh’s online accounts were swiftly banned by the platform administrators. The content she had previously published involved dangerous medical misinformation, gross violations of privacy, the solicitation of delayed medical treatments, and even the illicit sale of uncertified midwifery tools. Her private messaging groups erupted in chaos. Some victims stepped forward, confessing that because they followed her blindly and skipped their prenatal appointments, severe fetal abnormalities were discovered far too late. Others admitted to purchasing the birth kits she heavily promoted, only to be fiercely berated by their doctors. Someone even uploaded a screenshot of her saved draft reading actual cases carry more persuasive power to the public internet. Public opinion turned against her far more rapidly than she could have ever anticipated. After a full day of maintaining a guilty silence, the aunt who had previously sent those harsh voice notes finally reached out again.

My dear Duong, we did not fully understand the situation back then, so we might have spoken a little too harshly, the voice message began. Now that the baby is safe and sound, we are all family here, so let us not hold any grudges.

I listened to barely half of it before deleting the file entirely. My second uncle sent a similar text message: We were simply misled by your mother-in-law's words. I blocked him without hesitation. Tang Nguyet’s message arrived the absolute latest.

Sister-in-law, I am deeply sorry, she wrote. I always believed that mother's extreme thriftiness was for the sake of the family. But the moment I saw that she had secretly booked a luxury postpartum care center for me while forcing you to give birth at home, I finally realized just how deeply biased she truly was. I am going to return every penny of that money. Whatever mother bought for me, I will convert its value and pay it back to you and my brother.

I stared at the glowing screen for a long moment and chose not to reply. Some people do not suddenly discover their conscience; it is simply that when the sharp blade finally falls right at their own doorstep, they finally learn what pain feels like. When Dr. La came by for her routine round of checkups, she casually mentioned that the pregnant woman across the hall—the one whom Chun Binh had previously misled—had also safely delivered her child.

Her husband has been apologizing endlessly, saying that he almost ruined his wife and child's lives just by listening to a stranger's nonsense, Dr. La sighed softly. Giving birth is not some kind of internet challenge, nor is it a popularity contest for the whole family to cast votes on. A mother's own body is something only she has the absolute and final right to speak for.