Thirty-four weeks pregnant, I was jolted awake by my husband’s urgent cries in the middle of the night. By morning, I knew I had no choice but to file for divorce. My name is Mary, and this is how one night shattered my world.
Daniel and I had been married for five years, and everything seemed perfect—until now. I’ve always had a fear of fire, a trauma from losing my childhood home in a fire. Despite my anxiety, Daniel would brush off my concerns, saying I was being paranoid.
Two nights ago, Daniel came home with friends. I asked him to send them away so I could rest, but he insisted they were just having fun. Later, while I was asleep, Daniel screamed “Fire!” in a prank meant to scare me. His friends laughed as I rushed downstairs in panic, only to realize it was all a joke. I was devastated.
Tears streamed down my face as I confronted Daniel. His laughter faded, but the damage was done. I locked myself in the bedroom, my mind racing. How could he be so thoughtless, especially with a baby on the way?
I called my dad, who rushed over to support me. Together, we packed my things, and I left. Daniel’s apologies were empty, and his actions had left me questioning his care for me and our baby.
The next morning, I filed for divorce. No apology could undo what had happened. My emotions were valid, and my priority was my safety and my child’s. Daniel’s behavior showed me that he wasn’t the man I thought he was.
Now, I must move forward. The damage is done, and I’m ready to protect myself and my baby from any further harm.
Leave a Reply