At thirty-four weeks pregnant, I was jolted awake by my husband’s frantic voice, only to discover he had pranked me by yelling “fire.” The shock shattered everything I thought I knew about our marriage. By morning, I was considering divorce.
For five years, Daniel and I had seemed happy, but my fear of fire, rooted in a childhood trauma, was never fully understood by him. I’d made our home fireproof, but he dismissed my concerns. Two nights ago, after a night of drinking with friends, he woke me with the fake fire alarm, laughing it off as a prank. I felt betrayed, overwhelmed by panic, and called my dad for support.
My dad arrived and told me to pack my things, making it clear that Daniel’s behavior was unacceptable. At my parents’ house, I realized the gravity of what Daniel had done—it wasn’t just a prank; it was a violation of trust. The next morning, I filed for divorce.
Despite his apologies, I knew I deserved better—for myself and my child. Now, I faced the choice: stay and hope things improve or protect myself and my baby from someone who didn’t care about our well-being.