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.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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