My Eight Years Marriage Almost Killed Me

Eight months pregnant, I went to Everett’s office to deliver some documents.

The temperature inside was scorching 46°C. Just as I reached to turn on the air conditioner, his secretary stopped me.

"Ma’am," she said sweetly, "I’m on my period. I get cold easily—please don’t turn it on."

I glanced sideways at her. My baby was growing inside me, and the heat could cause a heatstroke. Without saying a word, I turned the AC on anyway.

That evening, Everett came back from a business dinner and burst through the door, already furious.