Goodbye, My Toxic Fiancé: I'm Done Being Your Second Choice

After I got pregnant, Ethan came home less and less.

I was left alone, dragging my heavy pregnant belly around, doing the laundry, cooking, and taking care of his bedridden, eighty-year-old mother.

In the middle of the night, a sharp pain shot through my abdomen. I looked down, and fresh red blood had stained the bedsheets.

Terrified, I called him, sobbing, begging him to take me to the hospital.

But all I got from the other end of the line was his irritated roar. "Can you stop bothering me in the middle of the night? I'm extremely busy right now!"