Every day he not only beat me but also poured boiling water on me, roaring, ""I'll boil your belly until a son comes out!""

The fluorescent lights of the hospital room flattened every shadow, leaving nowhere for my husband, Luke, to hide his face. I lay on the stark white bed, my skin wrapped in thick, sterile dressings. Every breath I took felt like inhaling crushed glass.

I remembered the searing agony. I remembered the kitchen tile against my cheek. I remembered the kettle in his hand, the steam rising like a ghost, and his voice roaring, "I'll boil your belly until a son comes out!"

Now, he stood at the foot of my hospital bed, playing the role of the devoted, terrified husband. He had told them it was a tragic accident. He said I had slipped near the stove.

But Dr. Shah did not lower the X-ray she was holding. Her eyes were cold, fixed entirely on Luke.

"She suffered third-degree burns to her internal organs," Dr. Shah said, her voice dropping the temperature in the room. "And... we discovered something else. She was never actually infertile. All the previous times, she was pregnant with sons... but you killed them before they were born."

The heart monitor beside me kept its steady, rhythmic pulse. The only sound in the suffocating silence.

Luke stepped closer to the bed, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the metal rail. He spoke quickly, before my groggy mind could fully process the doctor's words.

"She gets confused when she's in pain," Luke said, his voice smooth, dripping with fake concern. "She knocked the pot over herself. She’s been unstable ever since her last miscarriage."

Dr. Shah ignored him. She stepped around the bed and looked down at me, watching for the slightest flicker of comprehension.

"Caroline," she said softly. "Can you understand me?"

Opening my eyes required more strength than I thought I had left in my scorched body. My throat burned with the memory of the scalding water. I looked past the man who had tortured me for years and met the doctor’s steady gaze.

"Was this an accident?" Dr. Shah asked.

Luke’s hand shot out, covering mine. His grip was not gentle. His thumb dug viciously into my bruised knuckles, a silent promise of what would happen if I didn't play along.