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.]