At nine months pregnant, I never imagined I would be sitting on the steps of my own home, suitcase beside me, while my husband leaned in the doorway with a smirk plastered across his face and a blonde clinging to his arm. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. When I married him six years ago, I thought I had found my forever. He was charming, attentive, the kind of man who seemed to light up a room. I used to joke with my friends that I had hit the jackpot, a man who wanted a family, who talked about Sunday barbecues and bedtime stories, and a home filled with laughter. For a while, I believed that was what we were building…..CONTINUE READING IN BELOW
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