I saw my brother-in-law get into my newly purchased car as if it belonged to him. “Give me back the keys,” I said, trembling, but my mother-in-law called me “ungrateful,” and seconds later, a brutal kick to the stomach changed my life forever.

He had not offered a single apology or tried to comfort me with a hug since we arrived at the hospital an hour ago.

He simply kept repeating the same pathetic excuse over and over again like a broken record of cowardice and denial.

“I honestly never imagined that my father would actually do something so violent,” he whispered without looking at me.

When the physician finally entered the room, I did not even need to hear the words to understand the tragedy that had occurred.

Her face was etched with a profound sense of sympathy that told the entire story before she even opened her mouth to speak.

“I am incredibly sorry to inform you, Mrs. Miller, but the pregnancy has been terminated due to the trauma,” she said softly.

I felt as though the very life was being drained out of my body and replaced with a cold, hollow emptiness that I could not describe.

I had been carrying that secret for twelve weeks and dreaming of the perfect moment to share the joyous news with the world.

I wanted to wait until I felt completely safe and secure before I allowed myself to believe that happiness would not shatter in my hands once again.

Owen suddenly bolted upright in his chair and looked at the doctor with a confused and horrified expression.

“Wait, what exactly did you just say?” he asked with a voice that cracked under the sudden weight of the revelation.

I looked at him and realized that I was no longer seeing the man I had loved and trusted for the last three years of my life.

“We lost the baby because your father kicked me in the stomach,” I told him with a voice that was as cold as ice.

His face seemed to crumble for a moment and he took a hesitant step toward my bed, but he stopped himself before he could reach me.

Even in the wake of such a monumental loss, he still chose to maintain a safe and comfortable distance from my pain.

During the silent drive back to our apartment, he actually had the audacity to try and justify his family’s monstrous behavior.

“My dad was just angry and he didn’t really mean to cause any permanent physical harm to you,” he argued weakly.

I turned to look at him with a burning fury that I did not know I was capable of feeling toward another human being.

“He attacked me while your mother pinned me down and your brother tried to steal my property,” I shouted at him.