My dad's kitchen felt brighter today. Mike was coming over for dinner, and soon, he'd be my husband. We were building a future, a family, or so I thought. Then, Mike dropped the bomb: his startup needed $50,000, fast, or everything was gone. Desperate, my dad sold his cherished Harley, the one he polished every Saturday, to save Mike's dream. Just months later, my father lay dying, needing an urgent, impossibly expensive lung transplant. Mike, suddenly cold, called it a "setup," accusing us of trying to "squeeze" him. He then convinced me, with chilling logic, that our baby was a "burden," something we "couldn't afford." I went to the clinic alone. My father died soon after. Clutching his ashes in a biscuit tin, I saw Mike at a dealership, laughing with another woman, Tiffany. I overheard her mocking me as a "womb weapon." And Mike? He casually called our two years together "research." My love, my sacrifices, my dad's life, our baby – all just an "experience" to him. The world tilted. I confronted him, his lies and my devastation exploding in our apartment. My father's ashes, his final sacrifice, scattered across the floor, revealing the full horror of Mike's true nature. There was no going back now.
My dad's kitchen felt brighter today.
Mike was coming over for dinner, and soon, he'd be my husband.
We were building a future, a family, or so I thought.
Then, Mike dropped the bomb: his startup needed $50,000, fast, or everything was gone.
Desperate, my dad sold his cherished Harley, the one he polished every Saturday, to save Mike's dream.
Just months later, my father lay dying, needing an urgent, impossibly expensive lung transplant.
Mike, suddenly cold, called it a "setup," accusing us of trying to "squeeze" him.
He then convinced me, with chilling logic, that our baby was a "burden," something we "couldn't afford."
I went to the clinic alone.
My father died soon after.
Clutching his ashes in a biscuit tin, I saw Mike at a dealership, laughing with another woman, Tiffany.
I overheard her mocking me as a "womb weapon."
And Mike?
He casually called our two years together "research."
My love, my sacrifices, my dad's life, our baby – all just an "experience" to him.
The world tilted.
I confronted him, his lies and my devastation exploding in our apartment.
My father's ashes, his final sacrifice, scattered across the floor, revealing the full horror of Mike's true nature.
There was no going back now.
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