I thought I was saving a homeless woman, but I had no idea who she really was. The moment my husband saw her sitting in our kitchen, his face turned pale. Then he whispered a word that changed everything—Mom?I woke up with a heaviness in my chest. It wasn’t just the pregnancy making me feel this way—it was the thick, suffocating tension that never left our home. Next to me, Carter was already up, moving around the bedroom with sharp, impatient movements.His voice was clipped, without warmth. I pushed myself up slowly.
“Maybe if you didn’t lie around all day, you’d be tired enough to sleep.”I swallowed hard, pressing a hand against my belly.When I married Carter, I thought he was the perfect partner. Intelligent, charismatic, reliable. But his tone had grown colder over the years, his patience thinner.Looking back, I realized he had always been like this. I just hadn’t seen it through the haze of love.The moment he had everything—my house, my job position after I went on maternity leave—he let his mask slip. He had no reason to pretend anymore.“Breakfast?” I asked.
Carter barely looked up from his phone.I walked into the kitchen, moving slowly, and started frying eggs.This is my life. I’m cooking for a man who doesn’t appreciate me. Living in a house that, legally, isn’t even mine anymore.I had been so trusting, so foolish. At one point, I had signed all the house documents in his name, thinking it would be “easier” for him to manage finances. I had given up everything, believing that marriage meant trust.Behind me, Carter sighed loudly.I bit my tongue. No matter what I did, it was never good enough.
“You know what? Forget it. I’ll grab something on the way to work.”I didn’t argue. What was the point?He grabbed his keys.The door slammed shut behind him. I closed my eyes, feeling the lump in my throat grow.I can’t do this anymore.Without thinking, I grabbed my bag and slipped on my sneakers. The grocery store wasn’t far, and walking would clear my mind.I stepped out of the grocery store, clutching my small bag of essentials, but my mind was elsewhere. The cool evening air brushed against my skin as I walked through the parking lot.And then I saw her.
A woman was pushing a shopping cart filled with old blankets and a few worn-out bags. A piece of cardboard rested on her lap with the words “Homeless and Hungry” scrawled in bold letters.I slowed down.She didn’t look like the typical image of homelessness. Her hair, though messy, was well-kept. Her clothes weren’t ragged, just slightly worn. But her tired eyes held something unexpected. Dignity.I wasn’t sure what stopped me, but something did. I turned back.