I had been pregnant for eight months, however, my husband Stephen asked me to cook a festive meal for his friends who had come over to celebrate Christmas.

He had me serving in the kitchen while I struggled with my cumbersome body. When I finally sat down, hoping to enjoy the turkey , the doorbell rang.

At the door stood his assistant with her flawless makeup, looking every bit the picture of elegance. The moment Stephen saw her, he immediately ushered me away from the table and pushed the turkey in front of her.

"Alison, you're too heavy to eat any of this. Give it to Daisy, let her try your cooking."

"Mom is so fat now, she looks like a farm pig!" my son said with a giggle.

Furious, I threw the Christmas cake and turkey down, turning to leave the house. This home didn't deserve the effort I had put into it.

I had been pregnant for eight months, however, my husband Stephen asked me to cook a festive meal for his friends who had come over to celebrate Christmas.

I cooked turkey, mashed potatoes, lemon pie, and Christmas cake, even folding the napkins into the shape of Christmas trees.

But when I finally sat down to help myself to a piece of turkey, the doorbell rang again.

Stephen's assistant, Daisy, appeared at the door, her makeup flawless, wearing high heels and holding a gift.

Stephen greeted her with enthusiasm, ushering her into the dining room. Without hesitation, he pushed the turkey in front of her. "Daisy, try some of Alison's cooking," he said, turning to me. "Go to the kitchen and prepare the Christmas cake."

However, while I was cutting the cake, I heard Daisy and my children mocking me.

"Kids, what do you think of your mom?" Daisy asked.

"Mom is so fat now, she looks like a pig from the farm!" my son answered.

"And your mom's stretch marks look like a bunch of maggots crawling all over her. Even Santa would be scared of her!" Daisy added.

My heart sank.

Carrying the Christmas cake, I walked into the dining room to find them all laughing at my bulging belly. I felt like a clown, helpless and exposed.

I tried to hold my composure and asked Daisy to apologize, but Stephen's face hardened.

"Daisy was just playing truth or dare with the kids. Why are you overreacting?" Stephen said, his tone cold. "Besides, you really should watch your weight. Look at yourself—you've let yourself go."

"Alison, don't take it personally. It's for you and the baby's good. Eating too much isn't good for the delivery," Daisy said.

The children chimed in, "Mom, you really are eating too much. You should be more like Ms. Daisy and keep your figure!"

They all helped themselves to the Christmas cake I had made, laughing and sharing it like a happy family. Then they kicked me out, telling me to go out and get some exercise in the snowstorm.

"She's just eight months pregnant, and she thinks she's royalty! She's as fat as a pig. I'm the only one who would stay with her."

"Don't worry. She'll be back in less than ten minutes, begging me to forgive her."

But this time, he had miscalculated.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the turkey and Christmas cake, turned, and headed downstairs, throwing it all in the trash.

On Thanksgiving, I had spent all day cooking for the family, only to not even taste the turkey I had so carefully prepared. I thought Christmas would be different, but here I was. Not only did Stephen deny me a single bite of the turkey, but he also laughed at me in front of his friends, his assistant, and even my own children, calling me a pig.

He had completely forgotten—I was fat because I was eight months pregnant!

This home didn't deserve the effort I had put into it.

That night, snow was falling heavily as I wrapped myself in a thin nightgown and walked to the law office, chilled to the bone. The cold from the floor crept up my spine, sending shivers to my brain.

"It's snowing, and you're eight months pregnant—why did you come here by yourself? Does your child's father know about this?"

"He's dead."

The lawyer looked at me with sympathy, glancing at the stack of medical records from my visits to the hospital. There were also the large bank transfers from me to Stephen, who had asked for huge amounts of money under the guise of throwing me a grand wedding, which had yet to happen.

"Since you've decided on divorce, we'll take care of it as quickly as possible."

I glanced down at the papers on the table: my divorce agreement and every financial detail of the investments Stephen had taken from my parents' inheritance. The house, the money, the company—every single one of his achievements had been built on my money.

"If you withdraw your investments now, he'll not only go bankrupt, but he'll also be buried in debt. Stephen's company is already drowning in debt—it's just holding on by a thread," the lawyer said, pausing. "Are you sure?"

I lifted my head and spoke coldly, "Yes."

"What about the children?" he asked. "He may use them to play the sympathy card for custody."

I instinctively placed a hand on my swollen belly, a sharp pain hitting my chest.

I remembered the previous visit to the shady clinic and the doctor's question—whether I was considering an abortion. At that moment, I almost signed the consent form, but just as I picked up the pen, the baby inside me seemed to remind me that the problem wasn't with the child.

"The children stay with me," I said, calm yet firm. "He doesn't deserve to be a father."

By the time I signed the agreement and returned home, the snowstorm had stopped, but the biting wind had cut through me. Numbly, I climbed the stairs and unlocked the door.

The party was over, and the dining room was a mess. Even the turkey I had hoped to eat was unfinished, discarded on the floor.

Stephen sat at the table, smoking. The moment he saw me, his face darkened instantly. He grabbed the ashtray from the table and hurled it at me.

I was only a year older than Daisy! Why did I have to put up with so much?

Every time I reacted to something Daisy said, Stephen would immediately take her side, belittling me along with her.

"Daisy's right, you know. Why are you so petty? Can't you take a bit of truth?"

I was angry and disappointed. I went from being a pampered lady to a despised woman.

I had fought with him, trying to hold onto the little dignity I had left in this marriage. But now, I didn't want to argue anymore.

It was pointless to fight for a relationship that was rotten beyond repair.

The ashtray hit my stomach, and the pain was sharp and bitter.

He must have thought that my silence meant I accepted my fault.

With a smug smile, he said, "What are you standing there for? Can't you see how messy the table is? Hurry up and clean up."

I supported myself with one hand on the counter and glanced at the floor. It was covered with the remnants of their dinner—spilled wine mixed with cream, everything a mess.

They complained about me being in the way when they were celebrating, but when it came to cleaning up the mess, I was the only one left to do it.

I had no intention of cleaning. I was just going to my room to freshen up and then join the kids for opening Christmas presents.

But when I twisted the bedroom door handle, Daisy walked out, wearing an alluring black lace nightgown.

She feigned surprise when she saw me.

"Alison? Oh, I didn't know you'd be home. I didn't have anything to wear, so I borrowed yours. You won't mind, right? You're pregnant, so you can't wear it anyway."

"Why are you here?"

"It's snowing heavily outside. I was worried about her going home in this weather, so I let her stay over. You're not going to start a fight over this, are you?" Stephen explained casually.

At that moment, I looked into the living room. Daisy had already joined the kids, and they were opening Christmas presents together under the tree.

The floor was covered with torn wrapping paper, and the kids were laughing joyfully, bouncing around the tree.

"Thanks, Ms. Daisy! This gaming console is so cool!"

"And this watch—we can do video calls with it!"

They carefully hugged the electronic gifts Daisy had brought, their faces lighting up with uncontainable joy.

As for the gifts I had spent so much time preparing—the scarves and hats I had knitted over months—those were just discarded in a pile of scrap paper, left unnoticed.

"Mom, these are so old-fashioned. We don't want them."

My youngest son looked at me and didn't even try to hide his disgust. "Ms. Daisy's gifts are way better!"

"Mom, Ms. Daisy's going to take us skiing this year. You're so fat now, so you should just stay home."

In that moment, it felt like my heart was being squeezed, and the pain made me breathless.

"Alison, don't be upset. I'm glad the kids like their gifts. It's not a big deal, really," Daisy said.

"But you've stolen my chance to spend Christmas with my kids! You've crossed the line. You're not welcome in my house!" I yelled.

Without thinking, I grabbed the gifts Daisy had given the kids from their hands. The children cried out loudly, protesting.

Stephen immediately intervened, pushing me to the floor with impatience. His voice dripped with annoyance. "Stop with that sour expression! Do you really want to ruin the kids' Christmas with your ridiculous jealousy?"

I pointed at Daisy, my voice shaking. "She's clearly trying to cause problems between us. Are you just going to ignore it?"

He scoffed, his expression cold. "Stop with the drama. The kids don't like your gifts. Should I make them lie and pretend they're grateful for those ugly things you made? And just because you're pregnant, do you think the whole world should revolve around you?"

He turned to Daisy. "Why don't you head to the bedroom and get some rest? You've had a rough night."

He guided Daisy to the bedroom while the kids followed, their eyes filled with fear as they looked at me, their mother.

At that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment. I picked myself up from the floor and went straight to the bedroom.

I didn't notice the surprise flicker in his eyes as I left.

I thought that with Daisy around, Stephen wouldn't even spare me a second glance that night.

But to my surprise, just before I was about to fall asleep, I heard soft footsteps, and then he quietly entered the room.

His warm hand brushed against my waist. "Does it still hurt?" he asked with a hint of guilt in his voice.

"I've already cleaned up the house. Why can't you just let things go? There were so many people here tonight and you're making a scene over a joke. You're not thinking about the baby—calm down, please."

"You still care about this baby?" I asked, my voice laced with sarcasm.

His movement froze for a moment.

As he leaned in to kiss me, I grabbed his hand and placed it on my belly, tracing the stretch marks there.

He jerked back, startled.

Realizing his reaction had been too intense, he opened his mouth to apologize just as his phone rang.

In the quiet room, I could hear Daisy's distressed voice on the other end.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Greene. I must have upset Alison. I shouldn't stay here anymore. I'll leave and go home, you don't need to worry about me—ah!"

The phone call was abruptly cut off with a scream.

Stephen panicked completely.

He quickly threw on his coat and yanked me off the bed.

"If anything happens to Daisy tonight, it's on you! You're the one who caused this!" he snapped.

"It's not like I told her to go out at night! How is that my fault?"

I struggled to free myself, but he dragged me out of the house and shoved me into the car.

I was still wearing that thin nightgown, shivering from the cold as I sneezed uncontrollably.

But he didn't seem to care.

He floored the gas pedal, driving as fast as he could.

Ten minutes later, we saw Daisy's figure lying on the side of the road.

He immediately rushed out of the car, scooping her up and driving like a maniac toward the hospital.

As he sped down the road, he kept muttering, "If anything happens to Daisy, you'll pay for it!"

While Daisy was being checked at the hospital, pain suddenly coursed through my abdomen.

The whole night's chaos had taken its toll, and my body couldn't handle it anymore.

I broke out into a cold sweat, bracing myself against the wall to keep from falling.

After what felt like forever, Stephen finally noticed me.

But instead of concern, his voice was cold and mocking. "Stop acting, Alison. Daisy fell, not you. I can't believe you're like this! You look so put-together on the outside, but you can't even tolerate a young woman!"

Later that night, I sent a message to my lawyer. [Please help me file for divorce as soon as possible.]

Stephen passed by me, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing here? I asked you to help, not hide away!"

At that moment, Daisy cried out from the hospital room. Stephen dragged me inside.

He pointed at Daisy, his voice harsh. "Apologize to her."