It’s late at night, and you and your husband, who is pregnant, are walking home. The air is cool, and the quiet streets echo with the sound of your footsteps. Your husband, irritated and already on edge, leans on his cane, his patience worn thin.

Suddenly, a little boy in a torn, dirty shirt runs toward you both, not noticing your husband. Before you can react, the boy accidentally bumps into him, causing your husband to stumble. He falls hard to the ground with a grunt, He was holding his pregnant belly ,his cane slipping from his grasp.

The boy’s eyes widen in fear, realizing what he’s done. He freezes, his hands raised in defense. "I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!" he cries, his voice shaky with panic.

Your husband’s anger flares. He quickly grabs the boy by the arm, pulling him closer. "You’ll pay for that!" your husband growls, his voice full of fury, his grip tightening.

The boy trembles, his voice barely a whisper. "Please... don’t hurt me," he begs, his small body stiff with fear, trying to break free from your husband's grasp.