The Morning He Was Gone
That morning, I woke up to an unusual silence. Normally, Max would already be in the shower, clattering mugs in the kitchen, or muttering about the news on TV.
But that day, there was nothing. His side of the bed was cold. His suit—always carelessly thrown over the chair—was missing.
The living room was empty. The kitchen spotless.
And on the dining table, I found one sheet of paper with only five words on it:
“I’m sorry. I’m not ready.”
My chest tightened. I ran to the closet—his clothes were gone. The bathroom shelves were empty too. Even his favorite cologne had vanished.
Max had left me.
The Night Before
I replayed everything from the night before.
I had handed him the ultrasound photo tucked inside an envelope. At first, he smiled. But then his expression changed.
“You’re… pregnant?”
“Yes! Isn’t it amazing?” My voice was full of hope.
“But… we weren’t planning this.”
“I know. But maybe it’s meant to be.”
Then he noticed the details.
“Wait. There are two?”
“Yes. Twins, Max.”
He hugged me, but it felt stiff, almost distant. He didn’t ask if I was okay. He didn’t say, we’ll figure it out together. He just muttered, “I need some air,” and walked out.
I thought he’d return with flowers, maybe chocolates. Instead, he never came back at all.
Searching for Answers
At first, I believed he just needed time. But days passed. No calls. No texts.
On the fourth day, I snapped. If Max wasn’t coming back, I needed to know why.
I started cleaning. Maybe out of habit, maybe out of desperation.
That’s when I found his jacket from the night I told him. I lifted it to my face—there was a faint scent. Soft. Feminine. Not mine.
My hands shook as I dug into the pockets. A napkin. Some change. A folded receipt.
And then I saw it: an address, written in delicate handwriting.
Something inside me knew—I had just found my lead.
The Other Woman
That evening, I stood outside a small house on the edge of town. After half an hour of watching, I saw her. A young woman, maybe ten years younger than me, with blonde hair, carrying grocery bags inside.
My heart raced. I knocked.
She opened the door, puzzled. “Do I know you?”
“I’m Max’s wife.”
Her face went pale.
“I… I’ve been dating Max for six months. I swear, I didn’t know he was married.”
I slipped off my wedding ring and set it on the table. “We’ve been married for two years. And I’m pregnant—with twins.”
Her hand flew to her mouth. Her eyes brimmed with shock.
At that moment, we weren’t enemies. We were two women blindsided by the same man.
She leaned forward, voice trembling but steady. “So… what do we do with him?”
And just like that, the plan began forming.
The Party
The living room was bright with balloons and laughter. A golden banner read: Congratulations, Daddy-to-Be!
Katie—yes, the woman—played the perfect hostess. Guests hugged her, clapped her on the back, all smiles.
Then Max walked in.
“A party? For me?” His nervous laugh betrayed him.
“Surprise!” Katie beamed, wrapping her arms around him. “Tonight is about you.”
When her friends handed him a gift box, he opened it to find diapers. The room erupted with cheers.
Then came the cake. Katie handed him the knife. With everyone watching, he sliced it open. Inside: pink and blue swirls.
“Twins,” she announced brightly. “We’re having twins!”
Max froze. His forehead glistened with sweat. His eyes darted toward the door, calculating an escape.
The Trap Closes
Before he could move, Katie’s parents stepped forward, congratulating him with hugs and proud words.
He stammered, “I… I need some air!”
And that’s when I stepped out from the shadows.
“Going somewhere, Max? Running away again?”
The whole room gasped.
Katie scooped up frosting with her fingers and smeared it across his face. The guests burst into laughter. Soon, others joined in, covering him in cake.
Max’s voice cracked, “You tricked me!”
Katie’s eyes blazed. “No, Max. You tricked yourself.”
He spun toward the door—but Katie’s father blocked the way.
“Leaving so soon, son?”
Max was trapped. And for the first time in weeks, I felt free.
I lifted my purse, turned to leave, but not before I gave him one last glance.
“Oh, Max,” I said sweetly. “Enjoy the spotlight. You’ve earned it.”
And I walked away, leaving him standing there—covered in cake, exposed, and powerless.
✨ Sometimes life doesn’t hand you justice. Sometimes, you have to create it yourself.