Your stomach did summersaults. Not because of the baby you held in your womb. But because of the sight of your husband chowing down on human flesh repulsed you. You should be used to it by now. But, ever since you got married to him, you feared that you would be his next meal.

“You need protein, my love.” He bites into his “steak” like it was nothing. He looks at your salad in disgust. He worked so hard for this meal yet you resort to a salad. Disrespectful.

“It tastes just like a cow.” He tries to coax you into falling into his cannibalistic behavior. “Come on, love. Please try it. I did amazing on it.” He smiles.