On the way to my mother-in-law’s celebration, my water broke. My husband became enraged. He left me on an icy highway after dragging me out of the car while I was nine months pregnant. He asserted, “My mother is more important,” He didn’t anticipate..

“Thomas,” I whispered, panic rising fast. “I think my water just broke.”

He slammed the brakes. The car skidded slightly before stopping on the shoulder. His reaction was not concern. It was rage.

“You cannot be serious,” he snapped. “Today. Right now.”

A contraction tightened around me like a vise. “We need to go to the hospital,” I said, struggling to breathe through it. “Please. The baby is coming.”

He turned to me with eyes that felt unfamiliar. “You planned this,” he said. “You always do this. You had to ruin today of all days.”

The words did not register at first. “What are you saying,” I gasped. “I cannot control this.”

“You knew how important this party was,” he continued. “My mother has been preparing for weeks. And suddenly this happens.”

Another contraction surged. “This is your child,” I cried. “Please help me.”

Instead, he opened his door and stepped out into the snow.

“Thomas,” I called. “What are you doing.”

He walked around to my side, opened the back door, and dragged out my hospital bag. He tossed it onto the roadside where it landed with a dull thud.

“Get out,” he said. “You made me late already. Deal with it yourself.”