When Weston, my husband, told me he was switching to the night shift when I was six months pregnant, I didn't think twice. I immediately told him I wanted an abortion.

Right then, our friends and family were shocked.

Weston, on the other hand, lost it.

"Are you serious right now?" he snapped. "Just because I'm working nights, you want to get rid of the baby?"

I met his gaze and nodded without hesitation.

"Yeah. That's exactly why."

——

Weston slammed his palm down on the table, loud enough that the plates rattled.

"Rachel, say that again. Why do you want an abortion?"

I replied calmly, "Because you're taking the night shift."

Then, I slipped off my wedding ring and set it on the table, and pulled out my phone to search for a clinic.

Weston stared at me like I'd lost my mind.

"You're seriously going to kill our baby over a shift change? What do you think this is, a toy you can toss out when you're done with it?"

But still resolute, I responded to him, "If that's how you see it, then sure. Let's go with that."

I turned on my heel and started walking toward the bedroom.

I had every intention of packing a bag and going back to my parents' house, but Weston wasn't finished yet. His face was red, and his eyes bloodshot. He caught up with me and grabbed my arm, pulling me back into the living room.

Tension surged, and a few relatives rushed over, trying to pry us apart before things escalated.

"Easy, Weston," someone said. "Rachel's pregnant. You scare her, you could hurt the baby."

"Exactly. Women get emotional when they're expecting. She's just upset, saying things she doesn't mean. Be the bigger person here. Don't take it to heart."

But I wasn't just upset. I didn't need anyone brushing off my words as if I were just being hormonal.

"No," I said, loud enough to shut them up. "I mean every word. If he takes that night shift, I will have an abortion. And once the baby's gone, I'm divorcing him. This marriage? Over."

Weston and I had been together for fifteen years—four of those were dating, and ten were married.

He knew my temperament and tone well, so he could tell when I was bluffing and when I wasn't.

And this wasn't a bluff.

Weston then looked at me, and his defenses started to crack.

His voice shook when he finally said, "I won't divorce you, Rachel. I don't agree! You hear me? That baby's mine too. You can't take away its right to be born. I want you to keep it."

I paused, then reached for his phone on the coffee table and handed it to him.

"Then call your coworker right now. Tell them you're not switching shifts. If you do that, I'll stay, and I'll keep the baby."

That was it. I wasn't negotiating. I was laying down my line in the sand.

Karen, my mother-in-law, jumped in right away, her face lighting up like the sun had come out.

"Listen to her, Weston. Sure, night shifts pay a little more, but no amount of money is worth your family falling apart. Rachel's carrying your child. You may not realize it, but it's different when the man of the house isn't home at night."

Even Gilbert, my father-in-law, who barely ever chimed in, nodded in agreement.

"She's right. When your mom was pregnant with you, I switched to early mornings so that I could be home more. Now you're working nights at a chemical plant, gone all night. It's only natural Rachel's upset."

Weston stood there, saying nothing. Caught somewhere between pride and pressure. The man who used to give me anything I asked for was suddenly hesitating.

And I felt it. The disappointment sank deep, like someone was carving a hole in my chest.

I turned to the others.

"Don't bother trying to change his mind if he wants the night shift so badly, fine. Let him have it. I'm out."

The relatives, prompted by Karen, tried again.

"Weston, didn't your mom say this job came from one of her friends? And you're really just getting a little extra with the night shift—what, a thousand bucks a month? That's not worth wrecking your body."

Another one said, "That's right. You'll be up all night and half-dead during the day. If this is about money, Aunt May here can help you find a new teaching job. You were a teacher before, weren't you? And you won your case after that student falsely accused you. You could absolutely go back."

I watched Weston as the words hit him.

Something changed in his face, as if the warmth suddenly disappeared. At that moment, the room became so cold it felt like winter had come into our living room.

None of us understood his thoughts, but I had a gut feeling I already knew.

"I don't need it, and I'm not going back to teaching. I'm staying at the factory. The director actually values my work and gave me the chance to make more by switching to night shifts."

Weston yanked the phone out of my hand and flopped down onto the couch like he was ready to dig his heels in and dare me to challenge him.

My eyes stung immediately. I leaned back against the wall, one hand supporting my lower back, the other resting on my belly. I was exhausted, and my body felt like it was carrying more than just this child—it felt like it was bearing the weight of everything.

The tears I'd been trying to hold back quietly slid down my cheeks, soaking into the fabric of my dress, one after another, steady and unrelenting.

"Weston," I whispered, voice cracking, "do it for the fifteen years we've been together. For the baby I'm carrying. Please don't take the night shift. I'm begging you."

But all I got back was silence.

And so, I took a shaky breath, wiped my face with the back of my hand, and forced a bitter smile.

"Alright. I get it now. Just… don't come crying when you regret it."

Time passed slowly, each minute heavier than the last. His parents and all the relatives were still trying to talk sense into him, urging him to give up the night shift and stick with day hours.

Meanwhile, I had already packed my suitcase.

When I wheeled it out of the bedroom into the hallway, that's when Weston finally broke.

His eyes were red and raw, and he rushed toward me in a panic.

"Rachel, my low sperm quality has caused you to endure numerous IVF cycles over the last seven years. You've been through hell. We both know how hard it was to have this baby. And now, at 35, your pregnancy's already considered high-risk. If you abort our baby, it's going to do real damage to your body. Can you stop being so impulsive?"

I met his gaze and held it.

"Then promise me. Don't take the night shift!" I stared at him stubbornly, making one final plea. "As long as you don't work nights, I'll agree to anything. The betrothal gift, I'll return it. The house, the car… hell, even if you cheat on me someday, I won't take a single thing. I'll walk away with nothing. Weston, you've always listened to me. Just this once, can you please listen to me again?"

But his face hardened. His warmth vanished.

Without saying a word, he peeled my fingers off his hand one by one and snapped back, sharp and cold.

"I'm working nights so I can earn more. Why are you stopping me? What the hell is so wrong with the night shift?"

His voice rose, anger creeping in. "I just want to make some money for you and the baby. Is that such a crime? I'm trying to give you a better life so you don't have to work yourself to death. I'm doing this for us. Why can't you try to understand that?"

Then he threw his hands up in frustration. "You've always had my back. Why are you pushing me like this now?"

Yes, we had been together for fifteen years. And even when that student falsely accused him of assault and he ended up in jail, I didn't leave.

I found a lawyer. I dug up the truth. I stood by his side when everyone else turned their backs.

When we found out he had oligospermia and our chances of conceiving naturally were almost nonexistent, I didn't complain and immediately signed up for IVF.

Seven years of heartbreak and injections and hospital visits, and finally, this little life came to us.

I had dreamed of our future—me, him, and our baby.

But now, he was still choosing the same road he had gone down in our past life.

I wiped my face again, pressing my nails into the soft skin of my palm, needing the sharp pain to bring me back to focus.

And when the tears ran dry, what remained inside me was pure ice.

"Fine," I said coolly. "I won't stop you. If you're so set on working nights, then do it. But don't expect me or the baby to stick around."

I shoved past him and placed my hand gently on my belly.

My voice came out calm as I announced, "I'm getting the abortion tomorrow."

Karen's face went pale, her voice trembling as she grabbed my arm and pulled me aside.

"No, you can't. We won't allow it!"

"Rachel," Karen added, "ever since you became part of our family, haven't I always treated you nicely? The child belongs to you and Weston. Can't you step back and consider everything we've been through? Weston is working the night shift for the family and trying to earn more for you."

"For me? For the family? To earn a little more?" I repeated, letting out a quiet laugh that didn't quite sound like one. "Mom, he's not doing this for me. He's already fallen for someone else's promises about getting rich."

She blinked, confused, not understanding what I meant.

But there were things I couldn't tell yet. I didn't want to create unnecessary danger.

Then, she gently touched my arm, her voice soft and almost maternal.

"Silly girl. Of course, he's doing this for you. Weston doesn't even spend money on himself. Doesn't he deposit every paycheck straight into your account?"

I didn't answer. There was no point.

She wasn't wrong. But she wasn't right either.

There were things at play she couldn't even begin to imagine. And right now, I have to carry that truth on my own.

Weston looked at me, squinting as if he were trying to read my mind.

"Rach… did you find something out?"

I gave him a dry, bitter smile. "What could I possibly know, huh? Just that you're suddenly not coming home at night anymore. That you're dead set on leaving me and this baby behind."

That stopped him. For a moment, he looked caught off guard. Then he laughed, shaking his head as if everything finally clicked.

"Wait, seriously? You think I'm taking the night shift so I can sneak around with another woman? That I'm spending my nights wrapped up with someone else while you're at home stressing over it?"

He reached out and tapped the tip of my nose like we were still some cutesy couple in love.

"Babe, you're the only woman I've ever wanted," Weston said affectionately. "I don't even look at anyone else, I swear. You don't need to worry. I'm just doing this to bring in some real money. Big money."

Big money?

The words ran straight down my spine like a cold draft.

It was true. There wasn't another woman.

But what he was doing was so much worse than cheating.

I had already lived through the aftermath once, and I'd be damned if I let history repeat itself.

If Weston was really determined to walk that same road again, I wasn't about to bring this child into the world to go through the fallout.

"Goodbye."

Just two syllables. No drama. No scene.

I stood up straight, turned around, and walked toward the front door.

The moment they realized I was serious, the relatives nearby hurried to change what they were saying.

"Rachel is really being unreasonable," one of them muttered. "So what if he's working nights? She's six months along, storming out like this? Weston's trying to build a better future!"

"Exactly. It's not like Weston is leaving her completely. He's still around during the day. As his wife, she should be more understanding. She's being way too dramatic."

"I mean, seriously, she left like it was life or death! Threatening to abort the baby over a shift change? Honestly, maybe she's the one with someone on the side!"

My in-laws then decided to intervene, their voices sharp and cold.

Karen's tone cut clean across the room. "Rachel, if you walk out that door, don't expect to come back. You're not welcome here anymore."

Gilbert didn't miss a beat, nodding as he chimed in. "That's right. And don't think this is your choice. We're throwing you out. You think anyone else would want a used-up woman like you? Weston, on the other hand, can remarry whenever he wants."

I let out a small, wry smile and answered, "Oh? Then let me congratulate you in advance."

I stepped out of the house I had lived in for the past ten years and headed for the elevator. The doors opened, and just as I was about to get in, Weston ran after me.

For a split second, my heart paused.

I thought maybe he'd changed his mind, but all he said was that he'd drive me to my parents' house.

The entire ride was dead quiet.

Neither of us spoke a word.

I looked out the window, watching the blur of streetlights and signs pass by, and let the tears fall silently. They soaked into my shirt one after another, with no sound and no fuss.

Fifteen years of love…

And it still wasn't enough to make him choose me over a night shift.

What a joke. What a failure I must have been.

...

Almost an hour later, we pulled into my parents' driveway.

I was exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally. I didn't say a word, just grabbed my suitcase and went straight to my room.

Weston, somehow unfazed, remained in the living room and talked with my parents as if nothing had occurred.

When I woke up the next morning, sunlight was already creeping in through the blinds.

The first thing I did was pick up my phone and call the clinic.

I booked the abortion for 4 p.m.

At breakfast, my parents were quiet. For a long time, they just sat there, watching me, reading me.

Finally, my dad cleared his throat.

"Sweetheart, you're not the kind of person who makes rash decisions. You wouldn't just decide to end a pregnancy because Weston's working nights. So tell us the truth, has he started a second family or something? Is this 'night shift' just a cover?"

My mom reached across the table and softly took my hand, her eyes already welling with tears.

"She's right. You're our only child. Back when Weston was still teaching, we thought he was a good man. But then that student accused him of misconduct, and he lost everything—his job, his name. Even after he was cleared, now he's just a line worker. Nothing special. If he's betrayed you, your dad and I have savings. We can take care of you and our grandchild, no matter what."

I shook my head slowly.

"No, Mom. Weston's been good to me. There's no other woman. I don't want him working night shifts."

My mom then looked at me like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Then you're being immature, Rachel. It's normal for a man to be away sometimes. That doesn't mean you throw your whole life away. Just stay here for now. Your dad and I will take care of you."