There’s nothing I want more than a baby of my own. My husband makes sure I won’t have one.Every morning, my husband makes me a smoothie. Drink up, baby, for the vitamins.
It’s been three years of trying to get pregnant. I thought my body was broken. I thought I couldn’t have children. I thought he wanted them as badly as I did — he picked out a name, he promised me a nursery, he held me while I sobbed every month I didn’t conceive.
My doctor runs tests and says I’m on birth control. But how?
I find birth control in my husband’s desk, with another woman’s name on the package. I figure out that my husband is adding a pill to the smoothie he makes me every morning.My husband is making sure I don’t get pregnant. He’s also having an affair.
And then it gets worse.
I’m going to destroy his life.
