Clara Jensen sat in the front seat of a gleaming silver crossover as it glided through the streets of Charlotte, North Carolina. At seven months pregnant, she shifted her weight against the seat, pressing a hand to her stomach where the baby kicked restlessly. Her husband, Marcus, held the steering wheel with both hands, his chest puffed up with pride.

“This beauty cost me nearly fifty-five grand,” Marcus said, his voice full of self-satisfaction. “Finally, something that shows I’ve made it.”

Clara forced a smile, though fatigue tugged at her. “It’s a nice car, Marcus. Truly. But maybe we should have focused more on saving for the baby. Hospital bills aren’t small, and we haven’t even finished the nursery.”

Marcus’s smile dropped like a stone. He cast her a sharp look. “You just can’t let me enjoy anything, can you? Always finding a way to ruin a good moment.”

She lowered her eyes, trying not to argue. But Marcus wasn’t finished. He slapped the steering wheel with the flat of his hand. “Do you know what my colleagues say? They say I finally look successful. Respect comes with a car like this.”

The vehicle slowed at a traffic light. Clara winced as another kick jolted her. “Could you ease up a bit? The baby’s really active, and I’m not feeling well.”

Marcus groaned, exasperated. “Not this again. Don’t dump your pregnancy drama in here. I won’t have bad energy in my new car.”

Clara blinked, stunned. “Bad luck? This isn’t drama. I’m your wife. This is our child.”

His voice rose, sharp and bitter. “You’ve been dragging me down since you got pregnant. Always complaining, never supportive. I don’t need that. Not here. Get out.”

Clara thought she misheard. “What did you say?”

Marcus pulled to the curb near a pharmacy, his expression twisted with irritation. He leaned across her, unlatched the door, and said, “I said get out.”

Her throat tightened as tears threatened. “Marcus, please. Don’t do this. I can’t just—”

But he cut her off, pushing the door wider. Shocked and trembling, she stepped onto the pavement, her hands protectively circling her belly. Marcus slammed the door, pressed the accelerator, and left her standing on the sidewalk, the roar of traffic surrounding her.

Clara sank onto a bench, wiping at her eyes. She whispered to her unborn child, “It’s alright, love. I’ll keep you safe.”

She pulled out her phone and dialed her older brother, Daniel. Within twenty minutes his old pickup rattled into the lot. He jumped out, worry etched across his face. “Clara, what happened? Why are you here alone?”

When she explained between sobs, Daniel shook his head in disbelief. “He threw you out? While you’re carrying his child? That’s not just careless, that’s cruel.”