During my pregnancy, my world turned upside down.
The man I loved, Arnie—the man who used to hold me like I was the most precious thing in the world—changed into someone cold, cruel, and heartless. He mocked me, ignored my pain, and acted like I didn’t matter. Then one day, just like that, he left me for someone else, thinking he had the last laugh.
But what Arnie didn’t know was that I wasn’t some weak little girl. I had a plan. And when the time came… oh, he never saw it coming.
Pregnancy is supposed to be beautiful. Magical. A time when a woman glows and the couple grows closer.
That’s what people say, right?
Well, not for me.
I had two things during my pregnancy: morning sickness that lasted all day, every day… and Arnie, my husband, who treated me like garbage.
Before I got pregnant, he was wonderful. The kind of guy who brought flowers for no reason, left little love notes around the house, and told me every single day how much he loved me.
I remember the moment I showed him the positive pregnancy test. He held it in his hands, grinning from ear to ear. “We’re gonna be parents,” he whispered, pulling me into a hug. “This is the happiest day of my life.”
Back then, I believed him.
But then my body started changing.
And Arnie? He started changing too.
At first, it was small comments.
“You could at least dress better for your husband instead of walking around in pajamas all day,” he said one morning, barely looking up from his phone.
I wanted to scream. I had just spent the last three hours vomiting because the smell of toothpaste made me gag.
But it didn’t stop there.
“You just lie around all day,” he muttered one evening while kicking off his shoes. “This house is a mess.”
I tried to explain. “Arnie, my back is killing me. I can barely keep food down. I’m dizzy most of the time. I’m doing my best.”
He rolled his eyes. “Your best? Doesn’t look like much.”
Soon, he was always late coming home. Always glued to his phone. Always smirking at some message he’d just read.
“Who are you texting?” I asked once, my voice shaking.
He didn’t even look at me. “Work,” he said flatly.
I didn’t believe him.
Then came the night I’ll never forget.
I was eight months pregnant. My feet were swollen. My belly was huge. Even breathing felt like a workout. Arnie walked in reeking of women’s perfume.
“Where have you been?” I asked quietly.
He tossed his keys on the table and snapped, “None of your business.”
Then he yelled, “JESSICA!” His voice made me flinch.
My heart started racing. I struggled to get off the couch, my body aching all over. I finally made it to the kitchen.
“What is it?” I asked, leaning against the counter.
He glared at me. “Where’s dinner?”
I swallowed hard. “I tried, but I felt sick again. I can’t stand the smell of food.”
He rolled his eyes. “Could you at least wash the dishes?”
“I—Arnie, I’m trying. I’m so exhausted.”
He raised his voice. “You do nothing all day! No food. No clean plates. You’re just sitting around in sweatpants!”
I placed a hand on my belly. “I’m carrying your child. My body’s working 24/7—”
“Don’t start!” he cut me off. “My sister was pregnant and did everything. She cooked. She cleaned. She looked good. And she didn’t ignore her husband in bed!”
His words hit like a slap. I gasped, tears flooding my eyes. “Pregnancy isn’t the same for everyone. I’m doing this for us…”
He scoffed. “You’re just lazy.”
He stormed out. Slammed the door. Left me crying alone.
That night, I sat alone in the dark, crying into my hands, wondering how we ended up like this. How did the man who once swore to love me now treat me like I was nothing?
At dawn, my phone buzzed.
He’s here. He needed space. —From his mother.
So, he was at her house. Not with another woman. Yet.
But it didn’t get better. It got worse.
Every day he criticized me.
“This place is always filthy.”
“You don’t even try to take care of yourself.”
“You’re so unattractive now.”
I felt like I was dying inside.
One day, I finally told my best friend everything. Her face went dark.
“Jessica, you need to leave him.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m pregnant. No job. No money. Nowhere to go.”
“You have me. You have your mom. You’re not alone.”
I wanted to believe her. But I was so scared.
Then came the moment that changed everything.
Arnie was in the shower. His phone, usually clutched in his hand like treasure, was on the bed.
I hesitated. My hands were shaking. But I picked it up. And what I found made my blood run cold.
Dating apps. Dozens of messages. Women. Some of them he’d met. Others he was planning to meet.
I stared at the screen, heart pounding, stomach sinking. I held my belly.
No more.
That night, I stayed awake until sunrise. Planning.
A few weeks later, I was about to give birth. Arnie walked in with another woman.
“Who is this?!” I yelled, breathless with rage.
He smiled—like a villain in a movie—and said, “This is Stacy, my girlfriend.”
I froze. “WHAT?!”
He pulled out a folder and threw it on the table. “I’m leaving you. These are the divorce papers.”
I stared at the folder, shaking. “What about our child?”
“I don’t want you or your baby,” he said coldly.
Tears filled my eyes. “How can you be so cruel?”
Arnie sneered. “Look at you! You’re disgusting. Stacy’s beautiful, young, and she never says no to me.”
He kissed her—right in front of me.
Something inside me snapped. “YOU’RE A MONSTER!” I screamed and grabbed the pen.
I signed the papers.
Arnie smirked. “At least I don’t look like you.”
I looked him straight in the eyes. “I’ll get my things when you’re not home.”
“Do it fast. This house is mine now.”
I stormed out, head held high. He thought he’d won.
He had no idea what was coming.
I gave birth the same day my divorce was finalized.
It felt like the end of one chapter—and the beginning of something brand new.
My daughter Riley came into the world with a soft cry, her little hand wrapping around my finger. She was perfect. And she gave me something I had lost—hope.
I moved in with my mother. She helped with Riley while I healed. I got stronger—mentally and physically.
And then came the knock at the door.
It was Stacy.
I opened it, confused. “What are you doing here?”
She sighed. “It’s over. Your plan worked.”
I smiled. “Finally.”
She stepped inside. “Arnie signed everything over to me—the house, the accounts. He didn’t read anything. He was too busy drooling over me.”
I laughed. “He never paid attention to the paperwork. I handled it all when we were married.”
She smiled back. “Well, it’s all yours now.”
“Thank you,” I said, hugging her. “You were amazing.”
With Arnie out of the picture, Riley and I moved back into the house. My house now. It was peaceful. Calm. Safe.
Until one night… shouting outside.
“STACY! PLEASE! Come back! I have nothing left!”
I stepped onto the porch and saw him—Arnie. Broken. Pathetic.
I crossed my arms. “Aw. Poor thing.”
He turned to me, face twisted. “What are you doing here?!”
I smirked. “Didn’t expect this, huh? I tricked you, Arnie. Stacy? I hired her.”
His eyes widened. “What?!”
“I got sick of your lies. Your cheating. I sent Stacy to tempt you. And you fell right into it. While you were busy chasing her, you signed everything away—to me.”
His face turned red. “You witch! You set me up!”
I shrugged. “No, Arnie. You did that. I just gave you the rope.”
He looked at me, tears in his eyes. “Come back to me. I’ll be better. I promise.”
I laughed. “No.”
“You’ll never find someone else!” he yelled.
I smiled, full of confidence. “Look at me. I look amazing. I’m free. And you? You’re homeless.”
“Jessica, please…” he begged.
I turned around and walked inside. Click. The door locked behind me.
I picked Riley up, kissed her forehead, and whispered, “We’re going to be just fine.”
And I meant it.
We were finally free.
