The hospital room was quiet except for the soft rustling of the baby’s bnkets and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. Delih sat on the bed, cradling her newborn son in her arms, his tiny fingers curling against her skin. She had spent the st few hours memorising every detail of his face—his soft, round cheeks, the faint wisps of dark hair, and the way he made little noises in his sleep. He was perfect. He was hers.

  The moment the door opened, however, the warmth in the room was sucked away.

  Her grandparents stepped in, their presence heavy with unspoken judgment. Her grandfather led the way, his posture rigid, his piercing gaze sweeping over the hospital room before nding on her. Beside him, her grandmother held her purse in a white-knuckled grip, her lips pressed into a thin line. Neither of them looked happy to be here.

  Delih’s breath hitched as she adjusted her hold on her son. She had known this moment would come, but she wasn’t ready for it.

  Her grandfather’s sharp eyes flickered down to the infant in her arms. His expression twisted with something unreadable—disgust, disappointment, maybe both. “Who is the father?” he asked, his voice like a bde slicing through the thick tension.

  Delih pressed her lips together, refusing to answer.

  Her silence only deepened the scowl on his face. “Answer me, Delih,” he demanded, his tone harsher this time. “Who is the father of that child?”

  She shook her head, clutching her baby closer to her chest. “It doesn’t matter.”

  Her grandfather let out a slow breath, his nostrils fring as he turned away briefly. “This is an embarrassment,” he muttered, voice ced with disappointment. He turned back to her, eyes hard. “Do you have any idea what kind of disgrace you’ve brought upon our family name? Do you think we can just pretend this never happened?”

  Delih’s heart pounded. She tightened her arms around her baby, as if shielding him from the hateful words spilling from the old man’s mouth. “He’s my son,” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “I don’t care what you think. I’m keeping him.”

  Her grandfather scoffed. “No, you are not,” he said coldly. “I will not allow this. You are still young. This mistake can be corrected.”

  Her stomach twisted in fear. “He’s not a mistake,” she snapped, blinking back tears. “He’s my child, and if you can’t accept him, then I will leave this family.”

  Her grandmother gasped softly, but her grandfather’s expression remained unmoved. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing. “And where will you go, Delih?” he sneered. “You have never worked a day in your life. You have been coddled and spoiled. Do you think you can survive out there alone with a child?”

  Delih swallowed the lump in her throat, her tears now spilling freely. She hated how small she felt under his gaze, how easily he could strip her of any confidence she had.

  “You are a disgrace,” he continued, his voice growing sharper. “Your mother ruined you—let you do as you pleased, let you grow up thinking the world would bow at your feet. And now look at you. A single mother with no pn, no support, and no future.”

  Delih let out a shaky breath, her hands trembling. Every word he spoke dug deep into her, reopening old wounds she had tried to ignore for years. But when she looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms, something inside her steadied.

  She wiped her tears with the back of her hand and lifted her chin. “I don’t care what you think of me,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I don’t care if you think I’m weak or spoiled or useless. I will find a way to take care of my son. And I will never let you take him away from me.”

  Her grandfather studied her for a long, tense moment. Then, with a look of utter disappointment, he straightened his jacket. “So be it,” he said. “But don’t come crawling back when you realise how foolish you’ve been.”

  Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room. Her grandmother lingered for a second, her lips parting as if she wanted to say something. But in the end, she simply shook her head and followed him.

  As the door closed behind them, Delih let out a sob, holding her son closer as if he were the only thing keeping her grounded.

  *

  A few hours ter, the hospital room door creaked open again. Delih barely had time to compose herself before her mother and father stepped inside, their faces tight with emotion. Lo looked tired, her usually pristine hair slightly out of pce, while her father, Sis, stood rigidly beside her, his hands csped behind his back, his expression unreadable.

  Delih sighed softly. She knew why they were here. She had expected this conversation, yet she wasn’t sure she was ready for it.

  “You told your grandfather you were leaving the family?” Sis’s voice was firm, controlled, but Delih could hear the underlying frustration. He wasn’t shouting, but that only made his disappointment feel heavier.

  She adjusted the bnket around her son, her fingers lingering on his tiny hand. “I did,” she said simply. “I won’t let anyone take him from me.”

  Her mother inhaled sharply. “Delih, do you even understand what you’re saying?” Lo asked, stepping closer. “This isn’t just about you. This is about our family, about everything we’ve built. You think you can just walk away?”

  Delih sighed again, keeping her focus on the sleeping baby in her arms. “I’m not interested in fighting with you,” she murmured. “I know I’ve disgraced the family. I know what you must think of me. But none of that matters to me anymore. He’s my son. That’s all I care about.”

  Sis let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Delih, you had a bright future ahead of you,” he said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “If only you had given up the child before it could grow, before—”

  Delih’s head snapped up, her eyes burning with fury. “Before what, Dad?” she asked, voice sharp. “Before I had to take responsibility for my actions? Before I had the chance to love him? Is that what you wanted? For me to erase him as if he never existed?”

  Her father pressed his lips into a thin line but didn’t answer.

  She shook her head, gripping the baby closer. “Yes, I had a bright future,” she admitted, her voice calmer but no less resolute. “But let’s not pretend that future was ever really mine. My ‘bright future’ was marrying into an elite family, being the perfect housewife to a man I barely know, and living a life dictated by tradition. A life where I’d have no say, no real choices.”

  She gnced down at her son, brushing her fingers over his soft cheek. “At least now, my future will be mine. And it will revolve around my son.”

  A heavy silence fell over the room.

  Lo and Sis exchanged a look—one filled with uncertainty, concern, and something Delih couldn’t quite pce.

  Her mother’s fingers twitched at her side, as if she wanted to reach for her but wasn’t sure if she should. “Delih…” she started, her voice softer this time.

  But Delih had made up her mind. She wasn’t going to beg for their approval. If they wanted to be part of her son’s life, it would have to be on her terms.

  “I won’t apologise for choosing him,” she said firmly, her gaze unwavering.

  Her father exhaled slowly, his expression unreadable. He didn’t speak right away. Instead, he simply studied her—the determination in her eyes, the protective way she held her child.

  Finally, he turned to his wife. “We should go,” he murmured.

  Lo hesitated, gncing between them. Then, with a quiet nod, she followed her husband toward the door.

  Just before leaving, her father paused. Without looking back, he said, “We’ll talk again soon.”

  Then they were gone, leaving Delih alone with her son once more.

  She let out a slow breath, her heart still racing. She didn’t know what would happen next, but one thing was clear.

  She wasn’t just fighting for herself anymore.

  She was fighting for him.