The words sliced through me like a knife.
“The world doesn’t revolve around your belly.”
Eight months pregnant, arms burning under grocery bags, I realized I was alone in my own marriage. No shouting, no scene—just a quiet, shattering abandonment on the stairs. I went to bed invisible. By sunrise, three men were on the doorstep, and my entire future—my marriage, my security, my place in this family—was about to be ripped open and rewri… Continues…
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