Maternity Leave Tragedy: Truth's Fight Against Dismissal

I fought through the pain and looked up, only to see an Instagram photo of me and my husband that had been crudely edited. Half of me was cut out, and what remained was spliced together with a picture of Dora’s husband, turning it into the so-called “intimate photo” she was flaunting as proof.

I was stunned—David had a creepy habit of saving photos.

A wave of disgust washed over me, sending chills down my spine.

“This isn’t even a picture with David! It’s from a vacation I took with my husband! He must’ve screenshotted it!” I protested.

As soon as the words left my mouth, she drove her heel into the top of my foot with brutal force, twisting it like she was trying to bore a hole through my bone.

“Keep denying it all you want! The evidence is right here! You’ve got the original on your phone, don’t you? Planning to use it later to blackmail my husband for a promotion? Don’t think I don’t know exactly what you’re up to!”

The excruciating pain soaked my maternity dress with cold sweat. I bit down on my lip so hard that I tasted blood.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I frantically scanned the room for help.

But all I saw were Dora’s relatives—no one was stepping in. Some of them even rolled up their sleeves, looking ready to jump in.

Seeing this, Dora slapped me across the face, hard. “Who are you trying to fool with that victim act? Everyone here is ready to deal with you, you homewrecker!”

She grabbed my head with both hands, and two of her relatives seized my arms, holding me down. Then she called over a man in his fifties, who rifled through my pockets and snatched my phone.

The office door was wide open, and a crowd of students had gathered outside, watching the spectacle.

Humiliation burned through me as I screamed at the leering man, “Get away from me! Don’t touch me! I’ve already called the police—they’re on their way!”

At that, Dora shoved the man aside and kicked me hard in the chest. “Call the cops? I need to find that original photo and delete it. When you try to blackmail my husband later, I’ll be the one calling the police!”

I hit the floor with a thud, a sharp pain stabbing through my abdomen.

Sweat dripped down my forehead as I gasped, “Please, don’t hurt me! I’m not a homewrecker—David’s the one who’s been harassing the female teachers. He’s the real monster!”

I thought the truth might make her pause, maybe even calm her down a bit.

But instead, she froze for just a moment before her anger erupted. She yanked the phone mount off its stand and started beating me with it.

I writhed on the floor in agony as she screamed, “Still trying to smear my husband? You think you can get away with that, you slut? I’ll teach you a lesson you won’t forget!”

In the struggle, my phone slipped out of my pocket. Dora snatched it up.

With the face-recognition feature, she easily unlocked it. She planted her foot on my chest, pinning me down, and aimed the camera right at my face.

I heard a soft “click” as she sneered, “Let’s see how you try to lie your way out of this once I find those photos.”

By now, my entire body was drenched in sweat, every ounce of strength drained. I glanced at the principal, who was cowering in the corner, downing his blood pressure meds.

He couldn’t even take care of himself, let alone help me.

Tears of despair slid down my cheeks.

The searing pain in my abdomen pulsed through me, each wave sharper than the last.

After a few moments, Dora finished scrolling through my phone’s photo album. Her face twisted with rage as she hurled the phone at me, hitting me square in the face.

Blood spurted from my nose as she screamed, eyes blazing with fury, “You think you’re smart, huh? Hiding the original so I can’t find it? Well, you’re not getting away with this!”