My Wife Was Pregnant — But the Ultrasound Showed Something That Wasn’t Human

My Wife Was Pregnant — But the Ultrasound Showed Something That Wasn’t Human

We were married for three years before she conceived.

Tears, duas, endless tests — until finally, the test turned positive.

We cried.
We laughed.
We told our parents.
We bought a cot the very next day.

Everything felt… blessed.

Until the fourth month scan.


---

The First Sign

The doctor frowned.

Held the probe on her belly longer than usual.

Switched off the screen — "Technical error," she said.

But I caught a glimpse before it went black.

And what I saw wasn’t a child.

It had... limbs.
Yes.
But bent at strange angles.
Its head too large.
And its eyes... open.


---

> “Babies don’t open their eyes at four months,” I told myself.



But the worst part?

It looked straight at the screen.
And blinked.


---

Avoiding the Truth

The doctor referred us to a specialist.

Said the machine was “old.”
The image was “blurry.”

But she didn’t meet my gaze once.

My wife, Noor, was calm.
Said she felt fine.

Even joked about “maybe we’re having twins.”

But that night, she woke up screaming.

Clutching her belly.

> “It’s pulling,” she whispered. “It’s pulling from the inside.”



I tried to convince her — cramps, nothing more.

But deep inside…

I already knew this wasn’t normal.


---

The Second Ultrasound

At the private clinic, the specialist turned on a newer, clearer machine.

Placed the gel.
Ran the probe.
Silence.

And then…

She gasped.

She didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.

Just slowly turned the screen away from us.

> “I’ll be back,” she said. “I need another opinion.”



But she forgot to mute the speaker.

So we heard it.

A heartbeat.
Rapid.
Heavy.
Almost growling.

Too loud. Too fast. Too… wrong.


---

And then Noor whispered, in a voice I didn’t recognize:

> “He’s watching you too.”




---

Things Change at Home

After that day, Noor changed.

She became distant.
Didn’t eat meat anymore.
Only drank milk — liters of it.

She talked to the belly.
Not like a mother…

But like a prisoner talking to her warden.

> “You promised. Not him. Just me.”



I started sleeping in another room.

The house felt colder.
Even when the heater was on.

And the mirrors?
They began to fog from the inside.


---

The Third Visit

We went back for a third scan.

Different hospital.
Different city.

I begged her.

> “Please. Let’s end this if something’s wrong.”



She agreed.

But as soon as the doctor placed the probe…

The power went out.

And the screen glitched.

But in that flash of static, we both saw it.

A shape — sitting.
Not floating like a baby.

Sitting. Arms folded. Smiling.

And behind it…
Symbols.

Dark, ancient, curved symbols scratched inside the womb.


---

The doctor fainted.

Noor laughed.

> “He’s real now. No more hiding.”




---

The Final Night

I called a Maulana.
An old friend of my late father.

He came, quietly.
Listened.

Placed his hand on Noor’s stomach.

And screamed.

> “There is something in her. Not of her. Not of us.”



He began reciting Qur’an.

But Noor stood up.

Not slowly.

In one quick jolt.

And in a voice not hers, she said:

> “You cannot pull out what was planted before your Quran existed.”




---

The Maulana fainted too.

That night… Noor bled.

Cried.

Begged me to end it.

But I couldn’t.


---

The Birth

She delivered in the same hospital she was born in.

No one came.
No doctors.
Only one midwife — silent, pale, shaking.

I waited outside the room.

But when the door opened…

There was no cry.

Only a low, humming sound.
Like distant chanting.
Like a lullaby sung backwards.

And then I saw Noor.

Her eyes — black.
Her lips — stitched.
Her arms — limp.

And beside her…

A creature in a blanket.

Tiny.
Still.
Watching me.

It blinked.

Once.

And I ran.


---

Now

They buried her alone.

No janazah.
No family.
Only me and the midwife.

The baby — or whatever it was — disappeared.

They say someone took it.

I still see Noor in dreams.

> “I didn’t bring him here,” she says.
“He was always coming. I was just the door.”




---

Some pregnancies end in joy.
Some in tragedy.

And some…

Never end.

Because what came out… wasn’t meant to begin.