Every evening at exactly 7:14, My husband closed the curtains and forced me to eat the soup he had prepared. One day, I secretly took the bowl to a laboratory—and My hands began shaking when I read the results

“We didn’t find any poisonous substances or sedatives,” he said.

I breathed a sigh of relief, but he continued.

“However, the soup contains unusually high amounts of iron, folic acid, vitamin B12, and several natural herbal supplements.

They are typically used to help the body recover from severe anemia.”

“But I don’t have anemia.”

The doctor looked at my face carefully.

“Are you certain? You don’t look well. I strongly recommend having a blood test today.”

I agreed. An hour later, the doctor returned with a completely different expression.

“Your hemoglobin level is dangerously low. And there’s something else… You’re  pregnant. About seven weeks along.”

I froze.

Daniel and I had wanted a  child for years. After two miscarriages, the doctors warned us that another  pregnancy could be

dangerous for me. During the past year, we had even stopped discussing it.

I returned home holding the laboratory results.

It was 7:13.

Daniel was standing by the window. When the clock changed to 7:14, he closed the curtains, went into the kitchen, and returned with the white bowl.

This time, I pushed it aside.