I’m Shiho, in my 20s. I started dating Hiroaki, who is in his 30s and works at another company in the same building as me. When I found out I was pregnant six months into our relationship, I felt a mix of joy and anxiety—it had only been six months, after all. But Hiroaki’s words, “I think it was destiny that we’d end up together, Shiho,” completely blew those worries away. We got through the introductions to our parents smoothly, but just five days after we filed our marriage registration, I had a miscarriage. I went from the peak of happiness to the absolute depths of despair in an instant.
Even when we went to get their blessing, I had a sneaking suspicion I wasn’t exactly welcomed. It seemed like my in-laws were only excited about the prospect of a grandchild; they had zero interest in me after the miscarriage. In fact, my mother-in-law even went as far as to say, “I have no intention of being your mother-in-law.” Sure, it was a shotgun wedding, but how could she be so cruel to say, “If you had miscarried five days earlier, we wouldn’t even have married”? But who is this “Mitsuki” she mentioned? I’m completely baffled by this stranger’s name that she suddenly brought up.