Part 3My Husband Gave Our Lost Daughter's Name to His Illegitimate Daughter

I held the baby and found an empty seat.

I accidentally noticed the baby's wrist wore a custom gold ornament.

The pendant was a blooming lily.

I recognized it at a glance—seven years ago, when I'd just found out I was pregnant with twins.

My mother went to a gold shop and custom-ordered a pair of sacred heart gold ornaments symbolizing "protection" and "hope."

She traveled a thousand miles to a church to pray and had a priest bless the ornaments.

But fate didn't cooperate. There was an accident during delivery.

Only my son survived.

I was devastated. My uterus was damaged. I couldn't have a second child.

That pair of gold ornaments, with the cross, my son had worn on his wrist since childhood.

The one with the lily, I'd carefully kept in the home safe.

Whenever I thought of the child who never made it, I'd hold that ornament and cry for a long time.

My hand trembled as I touched the lifelike lily pattern and gently turned it over.

On the back, clearly engraved: "Sofia Falcone."

This was the name I'd spent months looking up in dictionaries, for our unborn daughter.

Hoping she'd be happy all her life.

"My daughter is named Sofia Falcone. Marco chose the name." Gianna smiled and sat beside me.

"This ornament was custom-made by Marco too. You don't know how much he loves daughters."

My heart cracked into fine pieces. I stayed composed.

"He's so good to you."

Gianna smiled and chatted familiarly with me.

"You must be new to the company? I knew all the old employees."

"I left later. Heard Marco say a lot of new employees joined."

I said against my will, "Mm."

"The company's benefits are good. Just always has business trips. Marco only stopped traveling in the last year."

"Before, he was always on trips. Couldn't see him for a month. Good thing it's over now."

A faint bitter smile rose at the corner of my lips.

"Yeah."

Before Marco was posted away for a year.

He traveled about half a month every month.

I felt for him, rotating through different cities every month.

I never let him worry about anything at home.

Even when Marco's parents were sick, hospitalized, needed care, I never made him handle it.

Even as our married life dwindled over the years.

I never complained.

Now I knew—he wasn't on business trips. He was taking care of another home.

Gianna showed no intention of taking the baby back, occasionally getting up to greet friends and relatives.

She looked at the baby quiet in my arms and said in surprise.

"My daughter really likes you. I had friends hold her, and she cried as soon as they did."

"You've held her so long and she hasn't cried. Amazing."

I said lightly, "Maybe because I have a child too. I've got experience."

She was delighted, not polite at all.

"Then please hold her a bit longer. I'll go greet the new guests over there."

I nodded.

She went off to greet guests with peace of mind.

I looked at the large banner hanging in the middle of the banquet hall.

It read: Congratulations to Marco and Gianna's beloved daughter, Sofia Falcone, on her happy baptism.

My body felt filled with glass shards.

My son never had a baptism.

At the time, the whole family was immersed in the pain of losing the other child.

Marco proposed not holding a baptism.

My parents disagreed, thinking a baptism was a big deal for a child.

But he insisted on not holding it, on the grounds that losing our daughter was too painful.

Now he had a daughter, and he could happily hold a baptism.

Only I still remembered the daughter who never made it.