For years, I dreamed of that moment—a positive pregnancy test in my hands. I couldn’t wait to tell Clay, imagining his joy. But instead of celebrating, I found a Kinder Surprise at the door. Inside wasn’t a toy, but a note that shattered my world: “I’m divorcing you.”
I had dreamed of this moment for years. Every second of waiting for the test result felt like a lifetime. I paced around the bathroom, clutching the stick, my palms damp with sweat.
What if it’s negative again? What if I’m only imagining symptoms?
But the moment I saw those two lines appear, everything else disappeared.
Tears blurred my vision as joy overwhelmed me. I whispered to myself, “Finally. It’s real. It’s happening.”
My hands trembled so badly that I almost dropped the test. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I stared at it, letting the realization sink in. After years of trying, after countless heartbreaks—that was my moment.
“Clay is going to be so happy,” I said aloud.
I quickly grabbed my phone, snapped a photo of the test, and sent it to him. I hesitated before hitting send.
Maybe I should wait to tell him in person? Make it special?
But the excitement was too much to contain.
My message read:
“I have the best news. Call me when you can!”
Hours passed. No reply. I checked my phone obsessively.
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