For years, Aiden and I struggled to have a baby. When I finally got pregnant, I expected joy—but his reaction was cold. Distant. Then came the visit to his mother, Gloria, who made it clear: if the baby wasn’t a boy, I wasn’t welcome.
I tried to hold on, hoping they’d come around. But I overheard a conversation that shattered everything—Aiden had a mistress, Veronica, and the pregnancy had ruined their plans to be together. Gloria and Aiden were scheming to push me out.
Something in me snapped. I stopped begging for love and started planning my exit—with dignity.
At the baby shower, I invited Veronica. In front of everyone, she helped me reveal the truth—not the baby’s gender, but the betrayal. Inside the cake wasn’t pink or blue, but red, with my wedding ring buried inside.
I handed Aiden divorce papers and told Gloria she’d never meet her grandchild. I walked away from their lies, holding onto the only thing that truly mattered—my child and my strength.