At 34 weeks pregnant, I woke to my husband Daniel screaming, “Fire!” Panicked, I rushed downstairs—only to find him and his friends laughing. It was all a prank, meant as a joke. But to me, it wasn’t funny. I lost my childhood home—and our dog—in a fire. That trauma has never left me, and Daniel knew that. I locked myself in the bedroom, shaking with anxiety. When I called my dad, he came immediately and took me home. By morning, I had made my decision: I called my lawyer and filed for divorce.
Daniel has since apologized, but the damage was done. His prank showed a lack of empathy, and I couldn’t trust him to prioritize our baby’s safety. While some say I overreacted, I know I made the right choice. Protecting my mental health and my child’s future had to come first.
