I even told everyone that I was the one marrying out, terrified he might feel emasculated.
How was that not enough?
When we found out it was twins, I was the one who brought it up first.
"How about one takes your last name and one takes mine?"
And he'd said, "No need. I married into your family. They should both be Galloways."
So why now—just because he'd taken some heat, just because his mother suddenly couldn't stand it—did they get to go back on everything?
And at the most critical moment of my life, while I was on the operating table fighting to survive, he'd let his mother use this to hold me hostage.
To say I wasn't heartbroken would be a lie.
I steadied my breathing and looked at my husband.
"What do you think? You really believe I owe you something?"
"This is our marriage. It has nothing to do with your mother. She doesn't get a say."
He stood there, head bowed.
He fumbled for words for a long time before lifting his damp eyes to mine.
"Just do what my mom says."
"This is the first time she's ever really fought for me."
"I don't want to let her down."
I stared at him, and something inside me went cold, piece by piece.
The truth was, I wasn't afraid of him trying to take my house.