Most of my friends were already mothers. I, meanwhile, hopped from clinic to clinic, hearing from doctors: “Maybe yes, maybe no.” I lived in that uncertainty, too afraid to hope. Even I couldn’t admit it out loud.
My husband, Aiden, and I tried for years—ovulation charts, weekly doctor visits. Hope always rose… then crashed. He held me through each negative test—until finally, two lines. I clutched the test like something holy.
“Aiden?” I whispered. “We’re having a baby.”
He surfaced from his work like he’d been called to an interview.
“What? I thought it was impossible.”
“Me too. But look—two tests, and the doctor confirmed nearly nine weeks.”
He smiled, but his eyes stayed empty. “So—do you want to keep it? Maybe reconsider?”
“What?! Aiden, this is what we dreamed of!”
“We dreamed. Things changed.”
He hugged me, but didn’t hug back.
The next days were cold. Aiden drifted through our home, distant. He ignored baby books I left out and the tiny onesies I bought. When I asked about nursery paint, he shrugged me off. “Can we not plan everything right now?” he said. He felt there—but didn’t.
He suggested talking to my mom, Gloria. I hoped for support. Instead, Gloria welcomed us coldly. “Congratulations, you got pregnant after all,” she said, blunt as ice. When I replied that health mattered, she snapped, “I hope it’s a boy.”
I shrugged. She turned to Aiden, like I wasn’t there. “We agreed—only a boy. If it’s a girl, you’ll have to leave.”
My blood froze.
“Are you joking?”
Aiden stood. “I’m hoping for a girl—and if not, I might leave.”
They weren’t hiding it—they didn’t want me.
But I had time. I stopped shrinking. I poured joy into planning the baby shower—peace in the pretense.
As guests arrived, I greeted them with a fierce calm: my baby was strong. Gloria stood by the dessert like a judge. Aiden touched my hand once and pulled away.
She leaned in: “Have you checked results?”
“No—I wanted everyone to see together.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Let’s hope for a boy.”
Right then, the door opened—Veronica stepped in. My husband’s mistress. She nodded at me, as if we were conspirators in a silent act. Aiden froze.
“Everyone, time for the reveal,” I announced. “I’ve asked someone special.” I gestured to Veronica.
She walked forward and sliced the cake—inside no pink or blue, just red icing and my ring. She lifted it with reverence. I held it altar-high. “This was supposed to mean forever. But forever doesn’t survive betrayal.”
I pulled out divorce papers. “I don’t need anything from you, Aiden.” I looked at Gloria. “No grandchildren for you.” Then I nodded to Veronica. “Thank you for helping end this story.”
“To everyone here, thank you. We’ll be fine.” I pressed my hand to my belly. “My baby’s already stronger than all of you.”
And I walked away—free, with my daughter on the way.