My Husband’s Mistress Got Pregnant

On my husband's birthday, I poured my heart into preparing a feast and selecting the perfect gift. Yet, he didn't come home.

Instead, I received a picture message—a snapshot of him at the hospital, standing outside the OB-GYN ward, his hand resting tenderly on his childhood crush's belly.

Beneath the photo, a message read: [The best birthday gift and a symbol of our decade-long bond.]

Furious, I called her. "Don't you know he's married?"

Before I could say more, my husband snatched the phone and lashed out at me. "Yvonne just wanted to share the joy of becoming a mother. Why are you overreacting?

"Yvonne and I have been best friends for over a decade. Your petty jealousy is disgusting!"

I once believed his busyness was for our future, but now I knew—he had been busy supporting the girl of his dreams through her pregnancy.

Clutching my own stomach, I bit my lip to stop the tears from falling.

Ten years of love had drained away. It was time to let go.

I turned off my phone and glanced at the meal I had spent the entire day preparing. Once steaming hot, it had grown cold and hardened over time.

I sent Caleb Harper a message on Messenger.

Me: [Are you really not planning to explain the situation with Yvonne?]

He replied almost instantly with a question mark, followed by several voice messages, each precisely a minute long.

I snapped a photo of the table, the carefully prepared dishes still neatly arranged, and sent it to him.

Me: [This is the birthday dinner I made for you, and this is how you repay me?]

Three or four seconds later, his response came through.

Caleb: [Reheat the food for me. Yvonne says your cooking smells delicious, and she can't eat anything cold now that she's pregnant.]

I stared at the message, the words so familiar yet now feeling utterly foreign. Did Caleb even realize what he was saying?

Yvonne Olsen was pregnant.

And me?

I sank onto the sofa, resting a trembling hand on my stomach. A tiny life was growing inside me, too.

For five years, I had endured countless fertility treatments, hundreds of painful hormone injections, all to give Caleb a child.

After so many struggles, I was finally pregnant. I had planned to surprise him with the news as his birthday gift. But someone else had beaten me to it.

Before I could fully process my thoughts, a new post from Yvonne appeared on my feed.

Yvonne: [I've had no appetite since getting pregnant, but the food my housekeeper made today looks amazing! Can't wait to eat!]

The photo attached to her post showed the very meal I had cooked, the one I had poured my heart and soul into.

My grip tightened around my phone as my chest heaved with rage.

They had humiliated me, making me their fool.

I jumped to my feet, hands trembling, and swept the meal into the trash. I discarded each dish,