“Get up, you lazy cow! Do you think being pregnant makes you a queen? Get downstairs and cook for my parents NOW!” At 5 a.m., my husband dragged me out of bed while his parents laughed. As I collapsed in pain, they had no idea I had already sent a message that would save my life….

January 7, 2026 by Nadia

For the past week, his parents, Agnes and Victor, had been staying with us. They slept in the guest room down the hall, and his sister, Lauren, slept on the pull-out couch in the den. Their presence was supposed to be “help” for the baby’s arrival. Instead, it felt like an occupation.

My alarm was set for 6:00 a.m., but the door slammed open at 5:00 a.m. sharp.

The lights flipped on, blinding me.

“Get up!”

The voice didn’t sound human. It sounded like thunder trapped in a box. Daniel stood at the foot of the bed, fully dressed in his gardening clothes. His eyes were bloodshot, manic.

I sat up, clutching the duvet to my chest. “Daniel? What’s wrong? Is it the house?”

“The house is filthy!” he roared, pacing the room. “And my parents are awake. They’re hungry. And where are you? Lying in bed like a sloth.”

“It’s five in the morning,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “I’m exhausted, Daniel. My back…”

“Your back?” He laughed, a cruel, jagged sound. “You think you’re special because you’re pregnant? Women have been doing this for thousands of years in fields, Sarah. In caves. And you can’t walk down stairs to make eggs?”

He ripped the duvet off me. The cold air hit my skin. I was wearing an oversized t-shirt, my swollen belly prominent.

“Get. Downstairs. Now.”

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My ankles were swollen. Every joint ached. But I knew the protocol. If I argued, it would last for hours. If I complied, maybe he would calm down.

I waddled to the door. Daniel was right behind me, close enough that I could feel his heat.

When I reached the kitchen, the scene stopped me cold. Continue reading…