She Loved Me So Much She Left

Douglas looked over my medical records when I was rushed to the emergency department. He said, "It was just a normal emergency procedure including blood tests, X-rays to determine the cause, and the use of corresponding medication for treatment."

"But why did Mom say I wasn't her daughter?" I asked.

Douglas smiled indifferently and replied, "She was probably overthinking it. You just had abdominal pain. It wasn't like you had an organ transplant. Even if you had an organ transplant, medically speaking, you would still be you."

Upon hearing the words "organ transplant," a terrifying thought suddenly rose in my mind. I questioned, "Did Dr. Gibson secretly replace my organs with someone else's? Was that why Mom thought I wasn't the original me?"

Douglas's expression turned serious. "We are a proper hospital. Your abdominal pain only required medication and rest."

He seemed earnest and not at all like he was lying to me. However, his answer did not provide any relief to me. This meant that the only clue I had toward learning the truth led nowhere.

I could tell Douglas was angry at my unfounded suspicion about the hospital and its doctors' ethics. Although he didn't show it openly, he left the ward with a displeased frown.

Before the door closed, I heard him speaking through his mask to the nurse about my condition. "The patient seems to show signs of a psychological condition. Observe carefully and notify me immediately if you encounter any problem."

A psychological condition? Did that mean I had a mental illness? Could it be that another personality lived inside me? Was this what prompted Mom to say I wasn't her daughter?

I quickly opened my phone to search for how to determine if one had dissociative identity disorder.

I started comparing my personal experience to what I had found online. It was said that the triggers usually came from childhood trauma. However, I had a very happy childhood under my parents' meticulous care. So, I had no childhood trauma to speak of.

The internet told me that dissociative identity disorder involves gaps in one's memory. Aside from the surgery and my passing out during the abdominal pain episode, I could confirm I had no blank spots in my memory.

Even after completing an entire set of authoritative online questionnaires, my mental health was perfectly fine, other than having mild anxiety. Yet, the more I confirmed that there wasn't anything wrong with me, the more uneasy I became.

Why exactly was I not me?

A long time passed, and I remained trapped in endless, baseless guilt. I couldn't help but think it was my fault Mom jumped to her death, and Hank chose to end his life by hitting the wall due to the false accusations that he had to bear.

My trauma only began to heal after Martin Sullivan appeared in my life.

Martin treated me very well. He was gentle and considerate. Above all, he could accommodate all my sensitive emotions. I gradually emerged from the shadow cast on me by the past incident. I wanted to marry Martin and have children to fulfill Mom's original wish.

To my delight, Martin agreed without hesitation to help me complete this wish. Before our marriage, we underwent a premarital medical examination.

While waiting for the results, one of the staff members, Rowan Voss, approached me with a grave expression and asked to speak to me alone in the office. What he said left me utterly shocked.

He said, "Ms. Laurent, your premarital examination report shows that there is a man inside your body."