My fiancée still didn’t know I biologically couldn’t have children.
Which meant one thing: if that wasn’t my baby, whose was it?
“I’m so happy, babe,” I said, forcing a smile. “Let’s throw a party to celebrate!”
She laughed, threw her arms around me, and I held her as if nothing were wrong.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about one detail.
The 10 weeks.
I forced a smile, but inside, everything collapsed.
***
Exactly 10 weeks earlier, everything between us had fallen apart.
Stephanie and I had a huge argument about my changing my work schedule. It was the worst fight of our relationship.
I remember her standing in the living room, shaking, her voice sharp in a way I’d never heard before.
“You don’t even tell me things that matter!”
“You’re overreacting,” I shot back, which only made it worse.
She pulled off her ring and threw it at me. It hit the couch and bounced onto the floor.
It was the worst fight of our relationship.
My fiancée packed a bag. And before storming out, she shouted, “Don’t call me again!”
And she meant it.
For almost two months, we didn’t speak.
No calls or texts, nothing.
Then, out of nowhere, Stephanie returned. She said she’d been thinking and wanted to fix things. I agreed.
But now she was standing in our kitchen, telling me she was pregnant; however, the timeline didn’t make sense.
“Don’t call me again!”
***
