Man Kicked Pregnant Woman out – Story of the Day
I was ecstatic to show my partner our pear-sized, developing baby because I knew he would love the ultrasound pictures and a surprise party. Instead, the last person I thought would be there for me was the one who threw me out of his house.
My joyful expectation was interrupted by the brilliant chime of the doorbell. I placed the ultrasound scans on the coffee table, proudly exhibiting them, and smoothed the baby blue tablecloth. Miles was coming home following four months of chasing his football aspirations.
He had a surprise when he got home. Sweat-drenched and exhausted, he walked in, his gaze focused on the swelling under my garment. Even though I was expecting, his focused stare made my anticipatory expectation evaporate.
As I said, “Miles, we’re having a baby,” my voice faltered.
“I never wanted to be a father, Bella,” he sneered. “Everything is being ruined by you!
Abruptly, I saw Dave, his friend, standing just behind him. From the entryway, he spoke. “Stop yelling at her, man.”
“This is none of your business, Dave!” Retaliating angrily, Miles slammed the door in his friend’s face.
Tears clouded my vision, and I gripped my tummy tightly for protection. “Miles, I want this kid. It’s a part of who we are,” I emphasized.
“Annabelle, I can’t handle a baby right now. He shook his head, saying, “If you keep it, it’s your problem.”
Whispering, “But I thought you loved me,”
“That is insufficient. He shot back, “Love doesn’t win championships.” “It’s either me or the baby. You have a choice.
I said, “I won’t give up our child,” as my strength increased.
With unwavering eyes, he commanded, “Then leave my house—and my life!” then.
Knowing that I could never choose Miles above this new life, I packed my belongings and departed with a protective resolve for my unborn kid.
As I wrestled with unbelief, snowflakes spiraled under the glimmer of the streetlamp. I kept thinking about Miles’ betrayal, which crushed my hopes for the future. I felt very alone as I sat on a snow-covered stair, holding my tummy.
I was haunted by memories of my lonely upbringing in an institution, where I was never able to form family ties. However, Dave suddenly showed there, his face carved with his worry in the snow-melted pathways.
He knelt to meet my eyes and said, “Annabelle, come with me until you figure things out,”
I paused, desperation and pride at odds. “Dave, I can’t. I don’t need your sympathy.”
A sharp agony squeezed my gut, and his sincere plea pierced my willpower. “You require a secure location. “Leave,” Dave demanded.
We drove through the blizzard to his warm, messy house, and I reluctantly agreed, more out of necessity than choice. It had a warmth and casual charm that was so different from what I’d experienced with Miles.
Overflowing bookcases and mismatched furniture were signs of a life well lived.
I muttered, “Thank you,” feeling both thankful and overpowered.
Dave tried his hand at being hospitable as I was getting settled, offering me food and making sure I was comfortable. Dinner was straightforward but comforting, and it provided some measure of tranquility. However, I had to object when Dave admitted to sleeping on the couch.
Dave, I’m not a burden. “You ought to feel at ease in your own house,” I said, shaking my head.
“Don’t worry, Annabelle. Now take a nap. Tomorrow, we’ll resolve everything.”
In Dave’s guest room, I slept fighting the eerie recollection of Miles’ uncaring stare. After a few hours of sorting through tears and agonizing thoughts, sleep finally took me.
A week later, some sense of normalcy was restored by the pattern of life with Dave. He was always thoughtful, and his generosity was very different from what I experienced with my former partner. Nevertheless, I was on my own.
I sneaked away with a sorrowful heart one clear morning after Dave had left for work. In order to spare him further of my problems, I had accepted a job delivering groceries.
However, the task was more difficult than I had anticipated. It was made more difficult by my increasing discomfort, the weight of the supplies, and trudging through the snow. I should have known that Dave would look for me, too.
On a crowded sidewalk, his automobile abruptly came up beside me. His face was filled with surprise and concern.
“Annabelle, why are you working like this?” he inquired.
I tried to minimize my efforts by saying that I needed the job to meet my prenatal demands. I know it was out of worry and caring, but Dave scowled and shook his head violently.
“Dave, I can’t simply sit around. “I have to get ready for the baby,” I added, my determination unwavering.
With a groan, he ushered me into the rear of his vehicle. Opening the trunk, he revealed a selection of maternity necessities. “Let me show you something,” he added. I started crying because his careful planning had moved me.
“Why all this, Dave?” Through the tears, I asked.
“It’s for you and the little one,” he replied, grinning broadly. “You’re going to be an amazing mother, Annabelle.”
His words and deeds, which were so full of unwavering support, made me even more grateful. I gave him a hug and muttered, “You’ll make a great dad someday, too.”
I was still apprehensive. It didn’t feel right to accept much more from Dave. However, he suggested that I cook in exchange for his backing. In addition, he made jokes and taunted me, which helped to relieve the strain in my heart and body.
I laughed honestly for the first time since this nightmare started. Our agreement developed into a lovely habit at his house over the course of the following several days. The small gestures of kindness he showed me brought me comfort.
I made the decision to quit my work at the store. With Dave’s help, I could afford to, at least for the time being. And our bond grew stronger over time.
In my life, Dave’s kind presence became a constant. Every action he took, from tying my shoes to pleasantly surprise me with presents, showed how much he cared.
The happiness in his eyes when he felt the baby kick one day made me realize that I was falling for him. But my newfound joy was overshadowed by fear. A soon-to-be single mother with a troubled past—could someone like Dave really love her?
I struggled with the concept of expressing my sentiments because I was afraid of jeopardizing the priceless link we had formed. These thoughts plagued me.
On a typical night of chicken casserole, Dave came home from work grinning wearily. He praised it by saying, “Smells incredible,” and set some tulips on the table.
He complimented the food as we were eating. “Annabelle, this is amazing. brings back memories of my mother’s cooking.
His words caused a surge of warmth to rush through my body. I became courageous as we conversed because of our common recollections. I said, “I’m so glad you liked it, honey,” and instantly regretted my mistake.
Dave’s response was instantaneous: his smile wavered. I panicked as our wonderful moment was broken. “Dave? In an attempt to lighten the situation, I mumbled, “I… it’s just pregnancy brain, I’m sorry.”
He stood up from the table and tried to smile again. “As usual, delicious. “Thank you,” he replied, and hurried out of the room.
The days that followed were a series of uncomfortable silences. Dave started acting differently; he went early and came back late. His eyes never met mine, and his welcomes were short.
A shrill electronic chime broke the deafening solitude one afternoon while I was snuggled up on the couch, drowning in a sea of self-loathing and fear.
Dave’s phone, laying unused on the coffee table, had a voicemail notification.
The room was filled with the professional, courteous voice of a woman. “Mr. Evans, this is a reminder that the documents for your new apartment are ready for pick-up at your convenience.”
My heart sank as I received the message. Dave has a move planned. I was devastated to learn that I couldn’t stay—not as a reminder of a difficult circumstance from which he want to flee.
So, with my heart even heavier than when I tried to leave earlier, I made the decision to go. As I packed, I spoke to my stomach, “We have each other, my little boy,” ready to face the world on my own.
But before I could go out, my whole body jerked at the sound of the doorbell. When I opened the door, Miles scoffed at my pregnant body, and for a moment I thought it was Dave. His initial remarks were brimming with contempt. “Motherhood’s added a few pounds, huh?”
“What do you want, Miles?” With a stern voice, I asked.
He smirked as he brushed by, dismissing my rage. In a condescending tone, he added, “Just checking on you and my bachelor buddy’s hospitality,”
I was astounded by his audacity. “Get out,” I said strongly.
He finally got to the point, ignoring my order. “Annabelle, let’s be a family. Consider the notoriety I would receive as the “devoted dad.”
Publicity? For his career in football? Was he crazy? He intended to take advantage of our youngster! I reacted by pushing him away and denouncing his heinous selfishness.
Miles chuckled. “Without me, what will you do? Do you believe Dave adopted you out of love for you? Had any concern for you and your luggage? You were merely a project, an opportunity to be heroic. Not his ladylove, but a charity case.
I pondered his comments for a moment, my mind battling with ideas. However, I was sidetracked by an abrupt, acute, and inevitable ache. Liquid splashed on the floor after a few beats.
As another contraction struck, I gasped, “My water broke, Miles,” panicking.
His response changed from derision to terror. Stumbling back in shock, he said, “The baby’s coming?”
Miles passed out as agony overcame me, and blackness framed my eyes. Dave’s voice, however, came to me in the midst of the confusion like a knight poised to save the princess.
“Annabelle? “Are you okay?” Dave took my hand anxiously and requested. “We need to go to the hospital.”
“I… “I’m so sorry, Dave,” I stumbled, my eyesight becoming even more blurry from the tears. “For everything. For encroaching on your life and forcing you to look after me for months. Regarding the new flat, I am aware. I was the reason you were moving out.”
Dave scowled before letting out a frustrated groan. “You’re completely mistaken. “Annabelle, the apartment is for us,” he clarified. “There is a nursery for our child there. I cherish you.
Before I could cry over his confession, my body was struck by another intense ache. Despite the fact that Miles was still asleep on his tiled floor, Dave took me in his arms and loaded me into his car.
There was a lot of pain and excitement throughout the drive to the hospital. The arrival of our baby son Matthew was greeted with a chorus of relief and cries, but it also signaled the start of a brand-new, love-filled adventure for us.
Our family was complete when our daughter Hope was born years later. Past hurts were far-off memories I never gave another thought to because of Dave’s unwavering devotion and protectiveness.
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