Chapter 1
My mother-in-law Mae Thompson told me to go to my parents' house for postpartum recovery.
She said her daughter, Lucy Thompson was studying for her SATs and I was too noisy.
At nine months pregnant, I had to tiptoe around the house daily.
I had to drink water silently and wait to use the bathroom until Lucy slept.
Kellan just stood there and said, "Mom's right. Lucy's SATs come first. You should understand."
I laughed, then called a lawyer that night.
A week later, the divorce papers and deed transfer arrived together.
Mae stood at the door with her suitcase, staring at me in disbelief. "This house..."
"Yes, it's mine now," I said.
*****
Dinner felt like sitting in an icy, suffocating freezer.
The soup in front of me was stone cold.
Mae slammed her chopsticks on the table.
"Zara, do you not understand plain English?"
Her shrill voice pierced my ears.
I met her gaze calmly, refusing to respond.
She continued, "Lucy's about to take her SATs. This is the most important time of her life.
"You're dragging that big belly around all day, making noise!
"I told you to drink water quietly and wait for her to sleep before using the bathroom. Are you ignoring me?"
I didn't say a word.
At nine months, it felt like I carried a boulder in my belly.
I had to get up several times at night to use the bathroom. Should I have held it until morning?
Is it just because Lucy has her SATs coming up?
My husband Kellan sat right beside me.
He said nothing, kept his head down, and ate.
When I didn't respond, Mae's anger only intensified.
She snapped, "I don't care. You're staying with your parents for the next few days.
"You can recover there. Don't stay and risk ruining Lucy's chance at Harvard!
Her words froze me completely.
Since I got pregnant, my mom tried to help, but Mae always refused.
Mae would say, "I can take care of Zara. No need to trouble your family."
Now, she was dumping me at my parents' like trash.
I finally turned to Kellan.
I hoped he'd finally stand up for me.
He finally looked up but avoided my eyes.
He turned to Mae and said, "Mom, take it easy."
Then he faced me, his brow furrowed with a troubled look.
He spoke. "Mom's right. Lucy's SATs are our family's top priority.
"Try to be understanding and stay with your folks for a while.
"Once Lucy finishes her SATs, I'll get you.
"Try to be understanding."
His these words sounded casual, but to me, they weighed a ton.
Those four words crushed me, heavy as mountains.
For three years of marriage, I handled all chores while he was busy with work.
I never asked for fancy things because his family wasn't wealthy.
I always bite my tongue while his mom runs the show.
Now, I'm nine months pregnant and about to give birth.
He told me to "be understanding" and go back to my folks.
I looked at him and laughed.
It was a whisper that froze the dinner table air.
Kellan and Mae stared at me, stunned.
They always saw me as gentle, maybe too meek.
Never before had I laughed like that.
"Okay."
I spoke just one word.
I grabbed my waist and stood up slowly.
My huge belly made every move a chore.
Step by step, I shuffled back to the bedroom.
Behind me, I heard Mae's smug snort.
"Glad you came to your senses," she sneered.
I closed the bedroom door, blocking outside noise.
I didn't shed a tear.
By then, my tears had already dried up.
When your heart was dead, nothing could hurt you.
I picked up my phone from the bed.
Someone in my contacts I hadn't spoken to in ages—Ryan Clark.
He was my college senior and is now a top divorce lawyer.
I dialed his number.
The call connected, and a steady male voice answered.
"Hello?"
"Ryan, it's me, Zara," I said.
My voice was eerily calm.
"I'm calling to have you handle my divorce.
"Also, sort out my premarital property."
The next morning, I woke up as usual.
I made breakfast for the whole family.
Mae and Kellan likely thought I had finally caught on.
She even gave me a rare smile.
She said, "Glad you figured it out, Zara.
"We're family. Go back now. After Lucy's SATs, I'll make it up to you. Big time," Mae said.
I nodded silently.
After breakfast, I told Kellan, "I'm visiting a friend today."
He didn't suspect a thing and just told me, "Be careful out there. Don't stress the baby."
His fake concern felt deeply ironic.
I took a cab to Ryan's office.
The place was bright and tidy, and Ryan looked professional and trustworthy in his crisp suit.
He poured me a glass of water.
"So, what's happening?" he asked.
I briefly told him about last night and my three years of marital frustrations.
His frown deepened as I spoke.
When I finished, he sat in silence for a moment.
"Zara, are you sure you want a divorce?" he asked.
"Yeah," I nodded, my voice steady. "I'm absolutely sure."
"Alright," Ryan said, no longer arguing.
He pulled a document from a folder.
He added, "You asked me before about your premarital property.
"Your parents fully paid for the house, and it's solely in your name. It's a clear premarital asset.
"If you divorce, Kellan gets nothing."
I nodded. "I understand."
That was my sole leverage.
"So, what would you like to do next?" Ryan asked.
"I want to sell the house," I said.
He looked surprised. "Sell it before the divorce is final?"
"No, I'm not waiting," I said coldly. "Kick them out now."
He looked at me with a hint of admiration.
"I understand," he said.