Thirty-four weeks pregnant and fast asleep, I was jolted awake by my husband’s urgent cries in the dead of night. His reason shattered my world, and by morning, I had no choice but to file for divorce.
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As I await the arrival of my baby, my heart is heavy with sorrow. My due date is just two weeks away, and I’m torn between welcoming my little bundle of joy into the world and divorcing my husband. My name is Mary, and this is the story of how one fateful night changed everything…
Grayscale side shot of a heavily pregnant woman | Source: Pexels
It’s been five years since Daniel and I met, and our marriage has been perfect… or so I thought.
“You’re being ridiculous, Mary,” my husband would say whenever I worried about fire. “There’s a smoke alarm, what’s the worst that could happen?”
But I couldn’t shake off the fear.
“My Mom’s house burned down when I was 17. We lost our pet dog, Grampa. The smell of smoke still haunts me, Dan,” I once told Daniel, but he just patted my hand and said not to worry.
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I remembered that fateful night—the smell of smoke, the sound of sirens, and the feeling of panic as Dad, Mom, and I crawled out from under the smoke.
Night shot of a burning building | Source: Pexels
Our neighbors and the rescue team saved us, but we lost everything. The trauma still lingers, and Daniel’s constant reassurances did nothing to calm my fears.
Lately, I’d been double-checking everything before bed. I make sure the electrical outlets are off, the stove is unplugged, and there are no lit candles.
