Chapter 1: The Pregnancy Bombshell

On the day of our post-wedding family visit—a tradition where newlyweds return to the bride’s parents’ house to pay their respects—my mother-in-law announced she was pregnant.

Honestly, I’d figured the biggest surprise would be a few awkward jokes or maybe a leftover slice of wedding cake—not this. The news hit me like a brick, and for a second I just stared at her, searching her face for any sign she was kidding. Nothing. Her expression was all business—chin lifted, eyes glinting with pride, like she’d hit the jackpot and was waiting for applause. My mind scrambled to catch up.

Before the wedding, she’d promised all the wedding money and our savings would come with us to our new home—but then she kept it. Was I really supposed to act like that was okay? Did I even have a choice?

It still stings when I think about it. She’d looked me right in the eye, hand on my shoulder, and said, “Don’t worry, Ryan. Everything here is for you and Emily—start your life right.” I’d believed her. Maybe I just wanted to believe in family, to think the best of people. Turns out, trust doesn’t always cash out the way you hope.

After my wife got pregnant, my mother-in-law moved into our place—to take care of Emily, even though she herself was in late-term pregnancy.

Our tiny apartment felt even smaller. She arrived with three suitcases and a list of pregnancy cravings. The plan was for her to help Emily through the rough patches, but in reality, she mostly camped out on our couch, remote in hand, calling out for snacks or some herbal tea she saw on Facebook.

It’s just for a little while, I kept telling myself.

My mom ran herself ragged looking after two pregnant women, and yet, somehow, she still got blamed for not doing enough.

I’d catch my mom in the kitchen at midnight, prepping chicken soup for tomorrow or folding laundry when everyone else was asleep. She’d try to smile at me, but her eyes looked so tired. And still, my mother-in-law would sigh dramatically in front of the family, saying, “It’s so hard to find good help these days,” as if we’d hired her a personal butler, not just welcomed her into our home.

For the sake of the family, I put up with all of it. Sometimes I’d just sigh and let the frustration settle in my chest, hoping it would pass.

There were nights I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, reminding myself this was just a rough patch, that things would settle. I kept my head down, swallowed my pride, and tried to keep the peace. That’s what you do for family, right?

Or so I thought.

Then, after my mother-in-law gave birth to my new little brother-in-law, she got even bolder—insisting we add their names to the deed of our home.

She brought it up at dinner, between bites of casserole, like she was suggesting we try a new paint color in the kitchen. “You know, it’s only fair if we’re all on the deed,” she said, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. I nearly choked on my food. My throat tightened, and for a split second, I wondered if I’d heard her right. Emily just stared at her plate, silent. My jaw clenched, but I tried to keep my voice steady.

This time, I refused to give in. My mother-in-law shot back, “If you don’t agree, I’ll take my daughter and end the pregnancy. Your family will never have grandkids.”

I froze. The words hit the table like a slap. For a moment, all I could hear was the hum of the fridge. Anger flared, hot and sharp, but my voice stammered out, “Th-that’s not fair to anyone.” She just glared, arms crossed, daring me to call her bluff.

Later, I received a photo. In it was a bloody, barely-formed fetus. My breath caught, and my stomach lurched. I stared at my phone, hands shaking, bile rising in my throat. There are some lines you just can’t uncross. That image burned itself into my brain—something I’d never be able to unsee.

That’s when I knew—this marriage was over.

It wasn’t just the money, or the house, or the endless demands. It was realizing that some people will stop at nothing to get what they want. That night, I sat alone in the dark. The city lights flickered outside. I made my decision. There was no going back.