At 34 weeks pregnant and sound asleep, I was abruptly awakened by my husband’s panicked shouting in the middle of the night. His reason for doing so shattered my world, and by morning, I knew I had no choice but to file for divorce.
With just two weeks left until my due date, I’m torn—excited to meet my baby but devastated over my marriage ending. My name is Mary, and this is how one terrible night turned everything upside down.
Daniel and I have been together for five years, and I believed our marriage was solid—until now.
Whenever I voiced my fear of fire, Daniel brushed it off, saying, “There’s a smoke alarm, what could go wrong?” But my fears run deep.
I told him about my past—how my childhood home burned down when I was 17, how we lost our dog, Grampa, and how the smell of smoke still haunts me. But he just comforted me without truly understanding.
That night haunts me—the smell of smoke, sirens, and the panic as my family escaped through the smoke-filled house. Though neighbors and rescuers saved us, we lost everything, and the trauma never faded. Daniel’s reassurances never calmed my anxiety.
Lately, I’ve been extra cautious—checking the stove, unplugging outlets, making sure no candles are burning before bed. Daniel found it annoying, but I couldn’t shake the fear. I needed to know we and our baby were safe.
One evening, Daniel came home with friends, and they were loud and rowdy. I asked him to send them away because I needed peace, but he insisted they were just having fun before the baby came. I didn’t argue; I grabbed my pregnancy pillow and went upstairs.
I was drifting off when suddenly Daniel shouted, “Mary, get up! Fire! Fire! Get up!” My heart raced as I grabbed my blanket and instinctively shielded my belly. I ran downstairs, telling him to call the fire department.
But when I got there, Daniel’s friends burst into laughter. Daniel joined in, explaining they had played a prank on me by yelling “fire” to scare me.
I felt betrayed and furious. “How could you do this? How could you play with my fear?” I cried.
Daniel apologized, but the damage was done. I locked myself in our bedroom, devastated that he didn’t understand how deeply this affected me.
I called my dad, who listened and came over right away. He was angry at Daniel and supportive of me.
That night, as my dad and I left the apartment, I realized I couldn’t let Daniel’s cruelty continue. I needed to protect myself and my baby.
The next morning, I contacted my lawyer and filed for divorce.
My dad stood by me, but my mom thought I was overreacting, saying Daniel didn’t mean harm. But I knew better—he deliberately played on my trauma and fears. What kind of father would disrespect his pregnant wife like that?
It’s been two days since I made the decision. Daniel keeps apologizing and promising to change, but it’s too late. My trust is broken.
I’ve learned my feelings aren’t to be dismissed or toyed with. I have to prioritize my safety and my child’s.
What would you do in my position? Protect yourself and your child from someone who disregards your feelings, or try to forgive and hope for the best?