Pregnancy. They say it’s one of the most beautiful times in a woman’s life—a time of excitement, hope, and the miracle of new beginnings. But for that to be true, a woman needs a partner who loves and supports her.
I wasn’t that lucky.
My husband, Arnie, changed the moment I got pregnant. It started with small things—tiny, cutting remarks, little gestures of indifference. Then, it escalated. He mocked my looks, ignored my pain, and treated me like I was nothing. And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, he left me for another woman, thinking he had won.
But what Arnie didn’t know was that I had a plan of my own. And when the time came, he never saw it coming.
Before my pregnancy, our marriage had been solid. Arnie had been loving, doting, and always making me feel like the most cherished woman in the world. When we found out we were expecting, he was over the moon. He held the positive pregnancy test in his hands, grinning ear to ear.
“We’re going to be parents!” he had exclaimed, pulling me into his arms. “I can’t wait!”
But the moment my body started to change, so did he.
At first, it was just little comments.
“You could at least dress better instead of walking around in pajamas all day,” he muttered one morning, barely glancing at me.
Never mind that I had spent the entire night battling morning sickness and had barely kept a sip of water down.
Then came the complaints.
“This house is a mess,” he grumbled one evening, kicking off his shoes and sighing dramatically.
I swallowed hard. “Arnie, my back is killing me. I can barely stand without feeling dizzy. I’ll clean when I feel better.”
But he didn’t care.
His words became sharper, his patience shorter. He started coming home late, always glued to his phone, texting someone. When I asked, he just scoffed.
“Just work,” he said.
But I wasn’t stupid.
One night, at eight months pregnant, I caught the scent of women’s perfume on his clothes. My heart pounded as I confronted him.
“Where have you been?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Arnie didn’t even look at me. He threw his keys on the table and shrugged off his jacket. “None of your business.”
Tears burned my eyes. “I’m your wife. I’m carrying your child. Of course, it’s my business.”
His eyes darkened as he took a step closer. “You know what, Jessica? You’ve really let yourself go.” His lip curled in disgust. “All you do is sit around in sweatpants. You don’t even try anymore. My sister was pregnant, and she still took care of herself. She cooked, cleaned, and never ignored her husband in bed.”
His words struck me like a slap. My breath caught in my throat. “Pregnancy isn’t the same for everyone, Arnie. I never thought it would be this hard either, but I’m doing this for us. For her.”
Arnie scoffed. “Stop making excuses. You’re just lazy.”
And with that, he grabbed his jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
I stood there, gripping the counter, feeling my world shatter.
That night, he didn’t come home. Hours passed. Then, just before dawn, my phone buzzed.
He’s here. He needed space.
It was from his mother.
Space? From what? From me? From our unborn daughter?
I clenched my jaw. Fine. He could have his space. But I wasn’t going to sit around and be his doormat any longer.
The next few weeks, things only got worse. His words were crueler, his absence more frequent. One evening, I broke down and told my best friend everything. She listened, her face growing darker with every word.
“Jessica, you need to leave him.”
I shook my head. “I can’t. I’m pregnant. I have no job, no money, nowhere to go.”
“You have people who care about you. You’re not alone,” she said firmly. “And you don’t deserve this.”
I wanted to believe her. But I was terrified.
Then, one night, everything changed.
Arnie was in the shower. His phone, which he never let out of his sight, lit up with a notification. My hands trembled as I picked it up and unlocked it.
A dating app.
Dozens of messages. Women he had been flirting with, meeting, sleeping with.
My stomach dropped. I clutched my belly as if to shield my baby from the pain, but at that moment, my mind cleared.
I had to leave him. But I needed a plan.
A few weeks later, Arnie walked through the door with another woman.
“Who is this?” I asked, my voice shaking.
He smirked and wrapped his arm around her. “This is Stacy. My girlfriend.”
I felt like I had been punched in the gut.
“WHAT?!” I gasped, barely able to breathe.
He tossed a folder onto the table. “I’m leaving you. Here are the divorce papers.”
My body went numb. “What about our child?”
Arnie shrugged. “I don’t want you or your baby.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. “How can you be so cruel?”
He scoffed. “Jessica, look at yourself. There’s nothing attractive about you anymore. Stacy, on the other hand, is young, beautiful, and—most importantly—she never says no to me.”
My hands clenched into fists. “You’re a monster!”
He just laughed.
So, I signed the papers.
And I walked away.
Months passed. I gave birth to my daughter, Riley, on the same day my divorce was finalized. It felt like one life had ended, and another had just begun.
With the help of my mother, I healed. I got stronger. I rebuilt myself.
Then, one afternoon, Stacy showed up at my door.
She sighed, shifting her weight. “It’s over. Your plan worked.”
I smiled. “Finally.”
Arnie had signed everything over to me—our house, the accounts, everything.
He had been so distracted by his new love life that he never read the fine print. And now, everything was mine.
Then, one evening, I heard shouting outside.
“Stacy! Come back to me! I have nothing left!” Arnie’s voice was desperate.
I stepped onto the porch, arms crossed. “Didn’t expect this, did you?” I smirked. “I tricked you, Arnie. You fell right into my trap.”
His face turned red with fury. “You witch! You set me up!”
I shrugged. “Your own ego set you up. I just let you dig your own grave.”
His anger faded into something pathetic. “Come back to me. I’ll be better.”
I didn’t even pause. “No.”
“You’ll never find anyone else!”
I smirked. “I don’t need anyone else. Unlike you, I have something real—my daughter.”
I turned, locked the door, and never looked back.
Because the best revenge? Was finally being free.