He had been frowning a lot recently, "Having a baby was a wrong decision."
It's not that he disliked children; he loved Rae Bennett so much, how could he not want to have a child with her, sharing their common blood? But in the past seven months, watching her suffer, watching her struggle with eating and sleeping, any anticipation was consumed by daily anxiety and fear.
"Don't say that," Rae Bennett warned him seriously, "the baby can hear you."
Wyatt Wright placed his hand on her abdomen, as if to cover the baby's ears: "I'm starting to resent him a little."
Carrying a child was far more dangerous than he had thought—too uncontrollable. All those earlier agreements about having one son and one daughter didn't count for anything. If possible, he wouldn't want any at all.
"I'm fine, aren't I?" Rae Bennett felt that Wyatt Wright might be suffering from some prenatal depression, "Dr. Solace said I can be discharged after resting for a few days."
She was far from fine.