The day my son was born should have been the happiest of my life, but it shattered my world instead. When my husband, Ethan, arrived at the hospital hours later, his words left me questioning everything.
Ethan and I had spent 21 years battling infertility—a journey filled with hope and heartbreak. At first, he was supportive, but as the years dragged on, he grew distant, staying late at work and taking secretive calls. I chalked it up to the strain we were under and focused on trying to conceive.
By 40, I was ready to give up, but I decided to try one last time. When I told Ethan, he seemed indifferent. Still, against all odds, I became pregnant. His reaction was lukewarm, and when I gave birth, he refused to be in the delivery room.
Two hours later, he finally arrived, only to ask coldly, “Are you sure this one’s mine?”
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