My twin sister and I were both eight months pregnant. At her baby shower, my cruel mom demanded that I give my $18,000 baby fund to my sister, saying she deserves it more than you. When I firmly refused, saying, “This is for my baby’s future.” She called me selfish and then suddenly punched me hard in the stomach with full force.

They moved like a team that had done this a thousand times. Consent forms. Quick explanations. A curtain. Trevor wasn’t there yet, and I kept asking, “Where is my husband?” like it would summon him.

Someone promised he was on the way.

Then, finally, there he was—running into the hallway in scrubs, face white, eyes wild, like his world had been ripped open.

He grabbed my hand.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Between contractions, I told him in broken pieces.

Mom demanded my baby fund.

I said no.

There was a sudden violent moment.

I ended up in the pool.

Nobody helped.

Trevor’s expression changed from confusion to disbelief to rage so deep his face went still.