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The Birth of My Daughter
A few months later, I went into labor in a small public hospital in Cebu. The walls were plain, the lights too bright — but when I held my newborn baby girl for the first time, the entire world seemed to glow.
She was perfect. Tiny hands, curious eyes, a soft heartbeat against my chest.
I didn’t care that she wasn’t the “son” they had wanted. She was mine — and she was everything.
When the Tables Turned
A few weeks later, an old neighbor called me with news that made the past come rushing back.
Clarissa had given birth. The Dela Cruz mansion was buzzing with celebration — balloons, banners, a feast that lasted all night. Their “heir” had finally arrived.
But soon, whispers began to spread through the neighborhood. Something was wrong.
The baby wasn’t a boy.
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