When I knocked on the door again, John finally opened it, but not to take me to the hospital.
Grace and Lily followed John, watching the drama unfold. John wrinkled his nose in disgust, seeing me sweaty and tear-streaked.
"Can't you take a shower? You smell awful. What kind of woman are you?"
I didn't want to argue anymore. Leaning against the wall, I weakly said my stomach hurt and asked to go to the hospital.
Grace pursed her lips, "Tiana, you need to be more considerate. Your husband works hard all day, and instead of being understanding, you keep causing trouble. It's late, and you want to go out now?"
"If you don't like washing dishes, I'll do it. Please, stop making trouble for my son. As his wife, you should care for him. If you don't, I will."
Lily added, "John, if she doesn't want to do it, I can be the housekeeper. Don't be mad."
I was dizzy with pain and choking back tears, clutching John's arm, "Please, my belly really hurts."
He shoved me away, "Can you stop pretending? It's just washing dishes. Why so many problems?"
Grace chimed in, "John, tell Tiana, it's crying makes her belly hurt. When I had kids, I never had this issue. This is too strange."
John's face darkened, "She's faking it. Doesn't want to work or do chores. Don't pay attention to her. Let's see if she can actually hurt herself."
He dragged me to the bedroom and locked the door. I lay on the bed in pain, unable to get out. We lived on the 26th floor, and I could only pray that nothing would happen to my baby.
The next morning, John, Grace, and Lily were outside getting ready. I knocked on the door again, and Grace loudly said, "Ignore her. Let her think about her behavior."
After they left, I called a locksmith and an ambulance.
At the hospital, the doctor was stern. I had signs of a threatened miscarriage and needed immediate hospitalization.
Sweating with fear, I called John, but he yelled at me, saying I was being dramatic and wasting money.
Ignoring him, I focused on saving my baby. Gritting my teeth, I mustered all my strength. "I'm having a threatened miscarriage. Can you please come help me with the admission procedures? I—"
"Just let it happen! After all, it's a worthless baby!" He abruptly ended the call.
The nurse beside me looked on with sympathy and, after a moment, offered to assist me with the admission process.
I felt immensely grateful.