I wanted to tell her the truth about my infertility so many times.
But I kept waiting for the “right moment.”
That moment never came.
Three years later, we were engaged.
We lived together, shared bills, routines, plans for the future. From the outside, we looked perfect.
Which is why I never expected my entire world to collapse one ordinary evening.
Stephanie burst through the front door practically glowing with excitement.
“I have a surprise!” she squealed.
I laughed. “What kind of surprise?”
She grabbed both my hands, bouncing with happiness.
“I’m pregnant!”
The words hit me like a truck.
For a second, I genuinely thought I might collapse.
I had to grip the back of a chair just to stay standing.
But somehow, I forced a smile.
Inside, though?
Everything was falling apart.
Because Stephanie had no idea I couldn’t have children.
Which meant only one thing.
If she was pregnant…
That baby wasn’t mine.
Still, I hugged her.
“I’m so happy,” I lied softly.
And then, before she could notice the panic in my eyes, I added:
“We should celebrate. Let’s throw a huge party.”
She laughed and kissed me, completely unaware that my heart was breaking in real time.
But there was one detail I couldn’t stop thinking about.
