My life is a total nightmare. I’m nine months pregnant. My husband treats me like a maid. Years ago, I married a man who seemed loving and kind, but now? Carter has shown his true colors—rude, arrogant, and controlling. My life isn’t mine anymore! He doesn’t care that I’m pregnant, as long as I keep cleaning and cooking. Even my own house doesn’t like it’s mine! Before we got married, he convinced me it’d be easier if he handled all the finances. Like a fool, I agreed. Now, even if I wanted to leave him, everything—my life, my money, my future—is in his hands.
So there I was, coming home from the store, struggling with heavy bags (sure, all alone). That’s when I saw her—a homeless woman, probably in her 60s. She was in rags, holding a sign that said, “Homeless and Hungry,” but there was something about her… this quiet dignity. We started talking, and my heart just broke. I had to help her. So, I invited her home. I knew Carter would lose his mind, but I didn’t care.
I let her take a hot shower, gave her some clothes and made her a meal. For the first time in forever, I actually enjoyed someone’s company.
And then Carter walked in. The second he saw her, he lost it. “DID I SAY YOU COULD BRING SOMEONE INTO MY HOUSE?!”
But then, she turned around. Looked right at him. Carter’s face went pale. His hands started shaking. He stammered, “Mom?! You stopped being my mother the day you chose to leave.”
Alice let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, Carter. Is that how you tell it? That I left? Maybe because you threw me out?”
“You abandoned me! You put your dreams ahead of me.”
Silence hung between them before Alice spoke again. “I wanted a career, not to be a servant. You and your father hated that.”
Carter turned to me. “Evelyn, why the hell did you bring her here? Get out. Both of you.”
Without a word, I dropped the key on the floor and walked out.
Outside, Alice pressed a button, and a sleek black Mercedes blinked to life. I froze.
She smirked. “It’s mine. Now, are you coming, or would you prefer to sleep on a bus bench tonight?”
As we drove, I whispered, “You said you were homeless.”
“I was. For a while. But I rebuilt my life. I own a company now.”
She pulled up to a grand house and turned to me. “I needed to know. You’re pregnant—I saw it instantly. If you were truly kind, you’d help a homeless woman. If my son was still a monster, he’d show it.”
Tears filled my eyes. I was finally free.
***
Weeks passed, and I was still adjusting to freedom—waking up without fear, drinking coffee without judgment.
Then, one afternoon, the doorbell rang. Alice and I exchanged a knowing look. Carter. He looked awful.
“I was wrong,” he admitted, shifting uncomfortably. “I… I see that now. I want to make things right.”
“Make things right?” Alice repeated, unimpressed.
Carter looked down in shame. “I know I messed up. I know I hurt you both. But I don’t want to be this person anymore.”
“You want to fix things? Start by going to therapy. And maybe… actually help the homeless instead of throwing them out.”
“I’ll do it. For our baby.”
Maybe he would change. Maybe he wouldn’t. But either way, my future was finally mine.