M9

I filed for divorce exactly ten minutes after they rolled me out of the delivery room. My family thinks I'm a monster, but none of them know that my husband f*cks another woman under our custom bed every night... _________________________ "I want a divorce." I said it barely ten minutes after they rolled me out of the delivery room. I was still too weak to sit up straight. My body felt split open from the inside out. An IV needle was taped to the back of my hand, cold fluid dripping slowly into my veins while nurses smiled and handed out congratulatory gift bags like this was the happiest day of my life. Both families crowded around the baby, crying, laughing, taking pictures. And I lay there staring at the ceiling, refusing to even look at my son. The entire room went dead silent. Nobody understood. Nobody knew about the bed. Damien's eyes turned red almost instantly. His lips trembled before he finally forced out, "Ava… you're divorcing me because I've been sleeping separately from you? Right after you gave birth to our baby?" "Yeah," I answered without hesitation. A sharp gasp rippled through the room. His father looked ready to strangle me on the spot. My own mother looked horrified, covering her mouth as if she'd just heard something unforgivable. To them, I looked like a complete monster. But none of them heard what I heard every single night while I carried Damien's child. None of them knew what it felt like to lie awake in the dark, trapped inside my own bedroom while my husband slept only a few feet away beside another woman. It started months ago. Right after Damien had that custom storage bed delivered to our house. It was huge. Expensive. Built higher than normal beds, with a thick wooden base underneath. At first, I thought it was sweet. He told me he was terrified he'd roll over in his sleep and accidentally hurt me or the baby. So he suggested we separate the room into two single beds placed side by side. I actually thought it was considerate. God, I was stupid. Every night before bed, Damien would lock the bedroom door from the outside. He always had an excuse. "You get dizzy at night." "What if you trip?" He acted so overprotective that eventually I stopped questioning it. But once the lights went out, things changed. I'd lie there wide awake, staring into the darkness while my swollen stomach tightened painfully beneath the blanket. And then I'd hear it. Soft noises from his side of the room. Not snoring. Not television sounds. Something else. A muffled thump. A whisper. A woman's low giggle. And sometimes… breathing. Slow and shallow, coming from underneath his bed. From inside that hollow base. A rhythm that didn't match Damien's at all. Not his lungs. Someone else's. The first time I heard it, my entire body went cold. I remember holding my breath so hard my chest hurt. Then, sometime after midnight, I'd hear the bedroom door unlock slightly. Footsteps. Two sets. Quiet movement heading toward the living room. Low voices drifting through the apartment walls. Too faint to make out words, but close enough to know exactly what was happening. Before sunrise, the door would lock again from the outside. Every single night. I nearly drove myself insane listening to it. So now, sitting in that hospital bed with blood still drying between my legs, I looked Damien directly in the eyes and repeated, "I want a divorce." The second the words left my mouth, he completely broke down. He dropped beside the hospital bed, crying so hard his shoulders shook violently. "Ava… please… don't do this…" The happiness in the room shattered instantly. Vanessa Reed suddenly stepped forward in her heels, her face full of outrage. "Ava, seriously? What the hell is wrong with you?" she snapped. "Do you even realize how much Damien sacrificed? He bought a separate bed to protect you, and this is how you repay him?" The second she opened her mouth, Damien's father exploded too. "So that's your reason?" he barked. "You want a divorce because your husband cared enough not to sleep beside you? Are you out of your damn mind?" My mother hurriedly stepped in, forcing an awkward smile. "Please don't misunderstand," she said nervously. "Ava just went through labor. She's emotional. She doesn't mean this." But I didn't care anymore. "Mom," I said flatly, "I'm completely serious." I reached into my bag, pulled out the divorce papers I'd prepared long before giving birth, and tossed them toward Damien. "Sign them." His father's face turned purple with rage. "You heartless bitch!" he shouted. "You just risked your life giving birth, and now you ask for divorce? What kind of person does that?!" My mother raised her hand like she wanted to hit me, but my father grabbed her wrist. "Ava," she said shakily, "can't this wait?" "No." I looked directly at Damien. His crying had quieted, but tears still clung to his lashes. "Why?" he whispered. "Just tell me why." "There is no why," I said coldly. "I'm done." I didn't want to stay there another second. My abdomen screamed in pain as I forced myself upright, grabbing the IV pole. Before I could move, Vanessa grabbed my arm hard. "You're not leaving," she snapped. "Damien's falling apart. You don't get to walk away without explaining." I ripped my arm free. "You're his assistant," I said icily. "Mind your own business." Her face twisted. "Fine. Any decent human being would be disgusted by what you're doing. What kind of mother files for divorce right after giving birth? Honestly, Ava, you're not even human." I shoved her hand away. She lost her balance and crashed onto the floor with a startled cry. The second she fell, Damien panicked. He yanked at his IV line trying to get out of bed. "If you're angry, take it out on me!" he yelled hoarsely. "Why are you dragging innocent people into this?"