He Threw Mud at His Pregnant Ex-Wife
The first thing Emília noticed was the overpowering smell — a mix of sewage and fuel.
Before she could react, icy, filthy water crashed into her body, knocking the breath from her chest. In seconds, her pale blouse was soaked and stained a deep brown, spreading across her five-month-pregnant belly — the very place where a life was growing, a life doctors once told her would never exist.

For a moment, Emília stood frozen in shock. The grocery bags slipped from her fingers and burst open on the rain-slick street of Vila Madalena. Oranges rolled away. Packages split apart. Instinct took over, and she pressed both hands against her stomach, shielding her baby.

Then she heard it — the low growl of a powerful engine.

Ricardo.
The man who once promised her forever.
The man who looked away as their newborn daughter, Sofia, died in her arms.
The man who left soon after, claiming she was “too damaged” to be a wife or a mother.

Now, his expression was sharp with disdain.

“I can’t believe this… Emília?” he sneered. “Still living like the poor, washed-up woman I walked away from.”

The expensive scent of his cologne clashed cruelly with the mud dripping from her clothes.

“Look at you,” he continued. “Buying groceries like a desperate housewife. Couldn’t even keep a proper husband.”

His gaze dropped to her stomach, and his smile twisted.

“And you actually found someone foolish enough to get you pregnant. We both know your body can’t handle that. You’ll lose this one too… just like our daughter.”

The words hit harder than the water. Emília felt her chest tighten, memories of hospital halls, unbearable pain, and endless silence flooding back. But she didn’t collapse. She stayed standing.

In the passenger seat, Valéria — the former affair now proudly titled “executive assistant” — laughed loudly, flashing designer sunglasses and a handbag worth more than Emília’s monthly expenses.

“Oh wow, Ricardo,” she mocked. “Is this the ex? What a sight.”