One night, I pretended to be asleep.
Daniel waited about twenty minutes.
Then he came closer.
Once again, he lifted my nightgown.
This time, he wasn’t holding only his phone.
He also had a small measuring tape.
He carefully measured my belly, entered some numbers into his phone, and took another photograph.
Then he whispered:
“Please… don’t let it be too late this time.”
My heart began pounding.
Too late for what?
Why was my husband measuring my body in the middle of the night?
And why was he doing all of this secretly?
Over the next few days, I began to fear my own bedroom.
Daniel had never hit me or threatened me. But now, every time he touched me, I remembered those nighttime photographs.
Until one morning, while taking a shower, I noticed that the skin on certain parts of my belly had become irritated.
For several weeks, I’d also been experiencing a strange feeling of heaviness.
