Ryan and I were never a dramatic couple. We built our life quietly — Sunday coffee, careful plans, steady dreams. When we decided to try for a baby, it was thoughtful and deliberate. So when I saw the second pink line, I showed him immediately. He lit up with joy, spinning me in the kitchen, already imagining our future. Our neighbor Karen had always been friendly, and her daughter Madison moved back home that summer. She was confident, charming, always around. Ryan stayed polite.
Madison stayed friendly — until the afternoon I walked into Karen’s kitchen and saw my husband holding Madison, kissing her like it was natural. The world didn’t shatter. It simply shifted. The divorce was quick. No real apologies. He moved on easily. I later learned from Karen — not him — that Madison was pregnant and they were getting married. Soon after, I lost my own baby. The hospital room was quiet, and something inside me broke.