I stood there, frozen, like I’d been struck by lightning. Did David really just say, “We’re all family”? The words echoed in my head, each one more absurd than the last.

How could he be so dismissive? He had nearly caused harm to our child!

“Do you even hear yourself?” I snapped, my voice trembling with anger and disbelief. “Our child—our child almost didn’t make it! And now you’re telling me to just let it go? Do you even have a heart, David?”

He reached out and steadied me as I wavered, my emotions threatening to knock me off balance. His tone was calm and patronizing, and it made my blood boil.

“I know, honey, I know. This has been hard on you,” he said like he was reasoning with a child. “But it’s the New Year. Please, give me some face and let it go, okay? Ryan’s just a kid—playful, that’s all. I’ll talk to him, I promise. You’re always so healthy—nothing really happened. Let’s just move on. Be good, alright?”

His words confirmed what I’d been trying to ignore. He didn’t care about how I felt—not even a little.

I closed my eyes, letting the tears spill over. At that moment, I saw him clearly for what he was. He wasn’t my protector, my partner, or my safe place. He was someone who expected me to endure, no matter how much it hurt.

That same thought rang clear in my mind: 'I have to get a divorce.'

But I couldn’t fight them head-on. Not here, not in this remote, isolated place. I’d read too many stories about people disappearing in small villages to risk it. If I made the wrong move, I’d be the one paying the price.

So, I softened. I pretended to let it go.

“Just make sure it doesn’t happen again,” I murmured, keeping my voice even. “I was really scared this time.”

David’s face brightened like I’d just handed him a trophy. He wiped the tears off my cheeks with a smile. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d understand. Alright, everyone, let’s go back to eating.”

But Cindy wasn’t finished.

“What about Ryan’s medical expenses?” she piped up, her voice sharp.

David shot her a warning glare. “That’s enough.”

...

Later that night, upstairs, I sat on the bed, my fists clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.

But I didn’t feel the pain. All I felt was fear—deep, bone-chilling fear. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling, and tears streamed down my face in an endless, silent flow.

This family was terrifying. I had to leave. I had to get out of here and end this marriage.

David came upstairs a little later, holding a bowl of chicken soup.

“Here, babe,” he said with a smile that sent shivers down my spine. “You didn’t eat much earlier. Drink this, it’ll warm your stomach.”

I took the bowl, forcing a small, shaky smile.

“Thanks, David,” I said, the word catching in my throat.

“David, my stomach doesn’t feel right,” I added after a pause, keeping my voice soft and hesitant. “Can we go back tomorrow? I’m worried—I want to get checked at the hospital.”

He didn’t seem suspicious, but he wasn’t budging either.

“It’s rare for us to come back for the New Year,” he replied, setting a hand lightly on my belly. “Let’s stay a few more days. The baby’s healthy—it’ll be fine. Don’t stress.”

After he left, I grabbed my phone and sent a message to my family group chat:

[Mom, you're right. I’ll listen to you. I’m not keeping this child.]

My mom had never liked David. She used to say he was too cunning, too manipulative, and that I’d regret marrying him.

But I’d been stubborn—a fool blinded by the idea of love. I thought I was fighting for something meaningful.

Her reply came quickly: [As long as you’ve made up your mind, that’s all that matters. Mom will always support you.]

Tears blurred my vision as I stared out the window. The forest outside was pitch black, the trees like looming shadows ready to swallow everything whole.

If I hadn’t forgotten my glasses, I would’ve driven myself out of there that very moment. But for now, I was trapped. I couldn’t leave, and I couldn’t provoke him.

I needed a plan.

...

The next morning, David tried to wake me up, but I didn’t respond.

He came into the bedroom and pulled back the covers. His face paled as his eyes landed on the large red stain on the sheets beneath me.

“Elaine! Baby, wake up!” he yelled as he shook me frantically. “Are you okay? Come on, don’t do this to me!”

David shook me awake.

I groaned weakly, letting out a faint, trembling whisper. “David, my stomach hurts—so much. Please... take me to the hospital.”

I let my body go limp, collapsing back onto the bed, playing the part of someone too weak to move.

David’s composure cracked instantly. He scrambled to throw on his coat and bolted toward the door.

“Mom! Stop whatever you’re doing!” he yelled. “Elaine’s bleeding—she needs to go to the hospital!”

Moments later, my mother-in-law barged into the room. She yanked the covers back just enough to take a look, her sharp eyes darting over the blood. Her expression flickered—hesitation, then something darker—before she turned and walked out without a word.

Downstairs, I heard the rumble of the car engine as David backed out of the driveway. Relief swept over me. If I could just make it to the city, I’d finally have the chance to bring up the divorce.

But then the car stopped.

My heart sank as David appeared in the doorway, his glare icy and cutting. His expression was no longer panicked—it was predatory.

“Keep pretending, Elaine. Why stop now?” he sneered. “Do you really hate staying in my house that much? What exactly are you trying to pull here?”

He took a step closer, his voice dripping with venom. “If my mom hadn’t told me that the ‘blood’ on the bed was chicken blood, I might have actually fallen for your act. Why, Elaine? Do you hate my family so much that you’d stoop to this?”

I forced myself to stay calm, even as my mind raced. “I just wanted to go to the hospital for a checkup,” I said softly, my voice steady. “I told you yesterday, but you didn’t listen. I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry, husband. I won’t do it again.”

His expression softened slightly, and his tone shifted into something that almost sounded like tenderness. “That’s all this was about? I told you, it’s rare for us to come back for the New Year. Stay a few more days. If you really want to leave, you can drive yourself back.”

My heart leaped—I couldn’t believe my luck. This was exactly the opportunity I needed.

But before I could make my move, another problem appeared: his mother.

“David, you’re spoiling her too much!” she snapped, her voice sharp and grating. “It’s the New Year, and she’s rushing to leave? Maybe she has someone waiting for her back in the city!”

“Mom, she’s not feeling well,” David said, trying to defend me.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed. “She’s faking it. When I was pregnant with you, I fell off a ridge and I was fine!”

David hesitated, caught between his mother’s words and my plea.

I stepped in, forcing my tone to remain calm. “I just want to go for a checkup. If everything’s fine, I’ll come back right away. It’s the New Year—I want to spend it properly with the family.”

“If you want a proper New Year,” she snapped, “then stay here. There’s nothing wrong with you—I know because I have experience. Now stop standing there and go wash the dishes! There’s a pile from yesterday, and I need a break. What kind of daughter-in-law doesn’t help out in her in-laws’ home? Move it!”

I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to grab the nearest shoe and slap that smug look off her face.

David glanced at me and said, “Go on, help Mom out. She’s been working hard.”

I stared at him, my mouth slightly open in disbelief.

'This is the man I married?' I thought. 'How could I have been so stupid?'

But I couldn’t lose my cool—not yet.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” I said, my voice steady. “But after that, can I go to the hospital? This is our first child, and I’m really worried. David, please help me explain to Mom. I’ll come right back—I promise.”

David nodded. “Alright.”

As I climbed out of bed, I pretended to stumble, falling into him just long enough to swipe the car keys from his pocket.

'Wash the dishes? Not a chance.'

Moments later, I was in the car, gripping the steering wheel as I navigated the winding mountain roads. My knuckles were white, and I didn’t dare glance in the rearview mirror. I didn’t want to see that house again.

I called my mom, my voice shaking as I told her everything and asked her to schedule the abortion.

Barely ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from David: [Did you take my car? Stop messing around and come back. The mountain roads are slippery.]

'His car?'

The audacity. The registration was in my name, not his.

When I didn’t reply, my phone started ringing.

“Elaine,” David growled when I picked up, his voice low and threatening. “What do you think you’re doing? Leaving without saying a word? Do you even see me as your husband anymore?”