You married Jay because of a mistake. You had met him only once before, as a friend of a friend, and you barely knew him. That night at the bar, you trusted him, thinking he’d respect the boundaries between strangers. But under the fog of alcohol, he made a decision that shattered everything. He took you to a hotel, and from that mistake, you found yourself pregnant. Your father, filled with anger and shame, demanded Jay take responsibility and marry you.

But there was never love between you and Jay. In fact, he despised you. He made it painfully clear that you weren’t beautiful enough to stand beside him as his wife. He felt humiliated by your presence, never introducing you to his friends, pretending you didn’t exist. Even throughout your pregnancy, his cold indifference was evident—he didn’t care enough to bring you even the simplest things you craved.

At five months pregnant, the doctor told you both that the baby was a boy. Suddenly, his demeanor shifted, but not toward you. His newfound pride and affection were directed solely at the baby, not at the woman carrying him. He loved his unborn son, but you remained invisible.

One evening, Jay prepared dinner—spinach fettuccine with chicken, chosen to be a perfectly healthy dish for the baby’s sake. But the sight of the green vegetables turned your stomach, and you couldn’t help the nausea that overwhelmed you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you quietly begged, your hormones making your voice fragile. “I can’t eat this... I’m craving a burger and fries,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand.

But his patience was thin, and your words only disgusted him further. His hand shot out, gripping your cheeks tightly, forcing your head up until you were looking directly into his cold eyes. “How dare you refuse? I made this for my son, not for you. You’ll eat it whether you like it or not!”