Our life in suburban Ohio looked perfect on the outside, a picture-perfect marriage that lasted five years. But inside, I was suffocating, especially after losing our first baby. When I finally got pregnant again, I believed hope was blooming. Then I found my husband had bought baby supplies. They weren't for us. They were for his pregnant mistress, Bree. He claimed she could give him the "heir" I couldn't. He coldly stated it was "practical," about "legacy," accusing me of being a "faulty machine." When I confronted them, his thuggish security shove, leading to another devastating miscarriage. He shockingly called it "faking it." Then, to punish me for wanting a divorce, he methodically shredded my grandmother's cherished quilt. It was the only solace I had left. My spirit was hollowed out. I was left with nothing but the brutal memory of his words and actions. How could someone claim to love you, then orchestrate such a calculated demise of your every hope and dream? Then, a phone call from a fertility clinic, a call he received, made him believe I was still carrying his precious heir. He came back, oozing fake repentance, painting a perfect future. But the cold D&C report I held in my hand was the real legacy I had for him. It was a testament to the life he' d destroyed. This signaled the true turning point of our story.
Our life in suburban Ohio looked perfect on the outside, a picture-perfect marriage that lasted five years.
But inside, I was suffocating, especially after losing our first baby.
When I finally got pregnant again, I believed hope was blooming.
Then I found my husband had bought baby supplies.
They weren't for us.
They were for his pregnant mistress, Bree.
He claimed she could give him the "heir" I couldn't.
He coldly stated it was "practical," about "legacy," accusing me of being a "faulty machine."
When I confronted them, his thuggish security shove, leading to another devastating miscarriage.
He shockingly called it "faking it."
Then, to punish me for wanting a divorce, he methodically shredded my grandmother's cherished quilt.
It was the only solace I had left.
My spirit was hollowed out.
I was left with nothing but the brutal memory of his words and actions.
How could someone claim to love you, then orchestrate such a calculated demise of your every hope and dream?
Then, a phone call from a fertility clinic, a call he received, made him believe I was still carrying his precious heir.
He came back, oozing fake repentance, painting a perfect future.
But the cold D&C report I held in my hand was the real legacy I had for him.
It was a testament to the life he' d destroyed.
This signaled the true turning point of our story.
Other books by Gavin
More