The rain was pouring the night everything changed. By the time I got home, I wasn’t alone — and my husband’s face said it all when he saw who was with me.
I left work feeling like my body wasn’t mine. Eight months pregnant, my feet swollen, my back aching, and the baby pushing so hard it felt like my ribs would crack. I’d worked full‑time because I had to — and because watching my marriage hollow out felt worse than staying busy.
Travis didn’t help. He stopped going to appointments, stopped cooking, stopped asking how I felt. Instead he went to the gym twice a day because, as he said, “Someone in this family needs to stay in shape.”
I had no family nearby — I was adopted, and his mother’s offers of help were shut down and dismissed by Travis. So on that rainy night, all I wanted was to get home, shower, and lie down.
Halfway home, the steering wheel began to vibrate… the tire went flat. I stood in the rain, hands shaking, and called Travis.
His response? He told me to fix it myself and hung up.
I cried, then did exactly what he said. I tried, failed, and then called my mother‑in‑law. She came — no judgment, just help. She wrapped me in a blanket, called a tow truck, and drove me home after midnight.
Travis was on the couch when we arrived. Soaked, exhausted, I stood there with her by my side.
I said quietly, “Since you were too busy, I found someone who wasn’t.”
That night changed everything.
She stayed. I left the next day for her house to rest — somewhere I was cared for, not ignored.
By the baby shower Saturday, surrounded by people who supported me, Travis tried to apologize — but my mother‑in‑law stood up and told the truth about that night.
He left before the cake was cut.
I stayed with family, resting and preparing for our baby.
I don’t know what the future holds, but I know this:
I didn’t wait to be saved.
I got myself help