For years, I dreamed of holding a positive pregnancy test and sharing the joy with Clay. The moment came, and I couldn’t wait to tell him. I sent a message: “I have the best news. Call me when you can!” Hours passed with no response. The next morning, I found a Kinder Surprise at the door. Inside was a note: “I’m divorcing you.”
Shocked, I told Clay’s mother, Margaret, about my pregnancy. Her reaction stunned me: “My son can’t have children. You must’ve cheated.” I denied it, but her words planted doubts. Memories of a night two weeks prior surfaced—a stranger had helped me when I felt dizzy and blacked out. Margaret twisted the story, claiming I’d been unfaithful.
Desperate for clarity, I met the stranger, George, who assured me nothing had happened. “You passed out from chocolate with alcohol. I brought you home to ensure you were safe,” he explained. Relieved, I turned to Mrs. Green, our family doctor. She revealed the truth: “Clay is fully capable of having children. He lied to you.”
The betrayal cut deep, but George’s kindness became my refuge. Over time, he supported me through my divorce and helped rebuild my life. Six months later, he proposed. When our daughter was born, I finally felt the peace of a real family.
