When He Chose Her Dog Over Our Vows

I was in labor with twins–my second pregnancy–and it was a difficult birth. With the last bit of my strength, I called my husband, Franco, the so–called ‘renowned gynecologist” who should have been by my side.

What I heard on the other end wasn’t comfort–it was barking. A chorus of panicked howls.

His voice was cold and distant. “I’m performing a C–section on Leanna’s dog. There are eight lives in her belly. You’ve only got two.”

Then, with a scoff, he added, “What, you can’t give birth without me? Leanna has depression. If her dog dies, she won’t survive either.“

Before I could reply, he hung up–and blocked my number.

Our son Alec, only a child, ran off to find Franco and begged him to help me. But he was in a rush, cradling a shivering dog in his arms, too busy escorting it to the pet hospital.

Without a care, he shoved Alec aside.