When my cheating ex showed up six months after abandoning our son, I thought he wanted to make things right. Instead, he asked me to babysit the newborn he’d had with his mistress! What I said to him that day set in motion a life-changing series of events.
My name is Claire, and at 31, I felt like I was finally checking off all the right boxes.
I had a decent job, a cozy little house, and I’d just found out that I was pregnant!
When I told my husband, Ethan, he dropped to his knees and kissed my belly.
“I’ve always wanted to be a father. I hope we have a son to continue my family name.”
Looking back, I should’ve paid closer attention to those words.
Did you catch it? He said “father,” not “dad.”
It sounds like a small thing, but “father” is a title, while “dad” is about showing up and doing the work.
Fast-forward seven months.
I was a beautiful, round, waddling whale when I discovered something that tore my world apart. I was trying to get comfortable on the couch, rubbing my enormous belly, when Ethan’s phone buzzed on the armrest.
A message preview popped up, and my breath hitched.
“Baby, a wonderful dinner is waiting for you.
Dump that Claire and come to me 😉”
I didn’t think about whether I was snooping or not. I just opened the message thread.
It was worse than I thought. The message was from our fitness trainer, Amber.
Ethan had been cheating on me and — wait for it — she was pregnant, too.
Five months behind me.
When Ethan walked in minutes later, I felt a rage so pure and hot, it could have melted steel.
I tossed his phone toward him. “Read it.
Read your little love note.”
He frowned as he picked up his phone.
When he saw the message on the screen, the blood drained from his face. “Claire, listen.”
“No, you listen. You told me you always wanted to be a father, Ethan, but our son hasn’t even been born yet, and you’ve broken this family.”
He hung his head and shrugged.
Then he said something that made my blood boil even more.
“You can’t tell your heart who to love,” he mumbled.
Can you believe that was his answer? Not an apology, not a plea, just some hollow movie-quote nonsense.
The divorce was brutal.
Everything felt messy and mean, a parade of lawyers and paperwork where there should have been excitement and nursery planning. I went into labor in the middle of the night. My mom drove me to the hospital and held my hand during the delivery.
Giving birth was the hardest, most miraculous thing I’d ever done, but everything felt perfect when the nurse placed my baby in my arms.
“Isn’t he beautiful?
Welcome to the world, Oliver,” I whispered as I snuggled him close.
Want to guess what Ethan did when Mom texted him that I was in labor?
Nothing.
He didn’t come to the hospital. He didn’t even send a text!
He missed the birth of his firstborn son, and if that doesn’t sum up his commitment to being a “father,” then I don’t know what does.
So, I focused on raising my child. I was moving forward into a future without Ethan, never expecting that he’d soon be knocking on my door with an outrageous request.
Life wasn’t easy.
Ethan treated child support like it was a “pay what you want” donation — sporadic checks that barely covered diapers, always late.
My family was my lifeline.
They showed up with casseroles, spent an hour or two helping me with household chores, and took Oliver so I could grab a quick shower or nap. I genuinely thought the worst was behind me.
Oh, how naïve I was!
Six months after the divorce was finalized, I heard frantic knocking on my front door. I set Oliver down in his playpen and opened the door.
There stood Ethan.
“Hey, Claire!” He grinned cheerfully.
“We need to talk.”
I hadn’t seen or heard from him in six months. I was the kind of deep, bone-weary exhaustion only a new mother understands, and didn’t bother with pleasantries.
“What do you want?”
“Listen, you know Amber gave birth to our daughter a month ago.” He smiled at me like a used-car salesman.
“So here’s the thing—”
“Taking care of a baby isn’t really our thing. We’re exhausted, and honestly, you’re doing great with Oliver. You’re a natural.
So, we had a brilliant idea.
Be our nanny!”
My jaw dropped.
“You want me to be your nanny?
Are you out of your mind?!”
He rolled his eyes. “Come on, Claire. You’re on maternity leave, anyway.
You’re home all day, and don’t you need extra money?
Amber and I really want more time together, you know, to relax and reconnect.”
I wanted to slam the door into his stupid smiling face, but then I had a better idea.
I bit my lip and acted like I was thinking it over.
“I do need the extra money…” I wanted to add a snide remark about his child support payments, but I didn’t.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page to discover the rest 🔎👇
