“Get Out of My House”
I shoved through the crowd, slammed the nursery door, and locked it. For several minutes, I stood with my back pressed to the wood, crying so hard I could barely breathe.
That room had been my promise. Now it felt like a crime scene.
When I finally came downstairs, the guests were gone.
Violet was on the couch, sobbing into Victor’s chest while he rubbed her back like she was the only broken one in the room.
They looked up at me like I was the villain.
“Get out,” I said. “Both of you.”
Violet’s jaw dropped.
“You can’t kick me out. I’m pregnant. Where am I supposed to go? You’re being selfish and heartless.”
I almost laughed.
“This is my house, Violet. I bought it. I paid for it. I made it safe. I can decide who lives here — and who doesn’t.”
Victor stepped toward me.
“Ruby, don’t do this. We’re married. Marriage isn’t about throwing each other out when things get hard.”
“No,” I said. “Marriage is about support and partnership. Not about turning your wife into a ghost in her own home.”
He dropped his gaze. They left together, slamming the door behind them.
I thought maybe that was the end.
It wasn’t.
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