Model Defeats Abusive Spouse

I heard the front door slam, and my heart sank. Chase was home early from his business trip. I quickly wiped my hands on a dish towel and glanced at my reflection in the kitchen window. The woman staring back at me looked tired, her hair hastily pulled into a messy bun, wearing an oversized t-shirt that hid the curves I'd grown to hate. I took a deep breath, preparing for what would inevitably come.

"Mommy, Daddy's home!" My four-year-old son, Ethan, came running into the kitchen, his eyes bright with excitement.

"I know, sweetie. Why don't you finish your coloring while I say hello?" I forced a smile, ruffling his hair.

Chase appeared in the doorway, his expensive suit still crisp despite the flight. He looked me up and down, his lips curling slightly.

"You couldn't have put on something decent?" he asked, dropping his briefcase on the counter. "I've been gone for three days."

I swallowed the retort that bubbled up. "I've been cleaning all day. Dinner's almost ready."

"Not hungry," he muttered, pulling out his phone. He scrolled for a moment before turning the screen toward me. "See this? This is what a woman who takes care of herself looks like."

Evie's perfectly filtered face smiled back at me, her toned body posed on a yacht. The caption read: "Missing my man. Come back soon. #blessed."

The knife twisted in my chest. He wasn't even trying to hide it anymore.

"She posted this yesterday," he continued, swiping to another photo. "Fifty thousand likes in two hours. What was the last time you got fifty thousand anything?"

I focused on stirring the pasta sauce, willing my hands not to shake. "Chase, Ethan can hear you."

"So? Maybe it's good for him to see what a real woman looks like." He pocketed his phone. "Maybe if you saw her posts more often, you'd be motivated to do something about..." He gestured vaguely at my body. "All of this."

From the living room, I could hear Ethan humming to himself, oblivious to the cruelty in his father's voice. I gripped the wooden spoon tighter.

"I've been thinking about joining that gym near the mall," I said quietly. "They have childcare, so I could go while Ethan—"

"And who's paying for that?" Chase interrupted, opening the refrigerator and grabbing a beer. "You don't work. You don't contribute financially to this household."

"You asked me to quit my job when I got pregnant," I reminded him, the familiar argument rising like bile. "You said you wanted me home with the baby."

He took a long swig from his bottle. "That was before you let yourself go. Before you decided that sweatpants were acceptable everyday wear."

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. "The gym membership is only forty dollars a month. I could cut back on groceries—"

"Forty dollars?" He laughed, the sound sharp and cruel. "You know what forty dollars gets me? Nothing. You know what I spent on