My husband, Andrew, came home tonight, and he wasn't alone. Standing beside him was his high-school sweetheart, Sabrina Chavez, her hand resting conspicuously on her swollen belly. Then, he dropped the bombshell: Sabrina would be his public partner, she was pregnant, and our marriage was a mistake. He called me barren, an embarrassment from the mountains, and declared he was being generous by not divorcing me, condemning me to stay unseen. My world tilted, because I was four months pregnant, secretly carrying our child, a truth he dismissed with cruel words. The next morning, his security team dumped my belongings in the cold, damp basement - a place not for living, but for storage. My old illness, the one I got saving him, returned with a vengeance, and a sharp pain told me I was losing our baby. Then I watched them chainsaw down the cherry blossom tree Andrew and I planted, a brutal symbol of our love' s end. Days later, Andrew accused me of making Sabrina miscarry, though I knew it wasn't my doing. He beat me, kicked me until I curled on the floor, and in that agony, my baby was gone. He locked me in the basement, bleeding, broken, but a cold fire began to burn inside me. I mailed the signed divorce papers and left my tiny son, wrapped in cloth, for Andrew to find. Then, I set fire to my old life, burning it all to ashes, and whispered, "I' m coming home. For expansion." I escaped into the night, ready to reclaim my power.
My husband, Andrew, came home tonight, and he wasn't alone.
Standing beside him was his high-school sweetheart, Sabrina Chavez, her hand resting conspicuously on her swollen belly.
Then, he dropped the bombshell: Sabrina would be his public partner, she was pregnant, and our marriage was a mistake.
He called me barren, an embarrassment from the mountains, and declared he was being generous by not divorcing me, condemning me to stay unseen.
My world tilted, because I was four months pregnant, secretly carrying our child, a truth he dismissed with cruel words.
The next morning, his security team dumped my belongings in the cold, damp basement - a place not for living, but for storage.
My old illness, the one I got saving him, returned with a vengeance, and a sharp pain told me I was losing our baby.
Then I watched them chainsaw down the cherry blossom tree Andrew and I planted, a brutal symbol of our love' s end.
Days later, Andrew accused me of making Sabrina miscarry, though I knew it wasn't my doing.
He beat me, kicked me until I curled on the floor, and in that agony, my baby was gone.
He locked me in the basement, bleeding, broken, but a cold fire began to burn inside me.
I mailed the signed divorce papers and left my tiny son, wrapped in cloth, for Andrew to find.
Then, I set fire to my old life, burning it all to ashes, and whispered, "I' m coming home. For expansion."
I escaped into the night, ready to reclaim my power.
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