My husband called me a whale, kissed his mistress in public, and told me to “dust the library.” Then he strutted into Asheville’s most exclusive Royal Estate Gala thinking he was untouchable.

I prepared a special dinner and placed the ultrasound photo in a beautiful envelope right next to his gold rimmed plate. For a single second, I saw a flicker of the gentle man I had married as he looked at the black and white image of our child.

He asked if it was a baby and I whispered that we were having a little girl who would surely change our lives for the better. He simply took a large bite of his food and remarked that he hoped she got my looks because his superior genes were wasted on a future housewife.

He never reached out to touch my belly or asked me how I was feeling during those long and difficult months of pregnancy. The moment that finally shattered my heart for good happened outside a local restaurant while the rain fell in a steady rhythm.

I walked out of my doctor’s appointment and saw Jensen’s luxury sedan parked across the street near a large window. I watched him laugh with Skylar as he fed her a bite of dessert with a look of pure adoration on his face.