Yo, so get this – I was like three months preggo and totally craving some bomb wonton soup. I got so hyped, I jumped into the kitchen and whipped up this killer broth from scratch. After hours of simmering and stuffing those lil’ dumplings, I was ready to feast. I called my man Noah over, but when I came back, the bowls were gone! That jerk had sent them over to our new neighbor Emma’s place without even asking. Apparently, she’s a single mom struggling to get by, so my knight-in-shining-armor hubby took it upon himself to ‘help out.’ Now, I get being a good neighbor and all, but this chick had Noah running errands for her like a personal handyman. Changing lightbulbs, lugging rice bags – you name it, he was on it. His go-to line became, “Single moms have it rough, babe.” At first, I played it cool, but giving away my homemade pregnancy cravings? That was the last straw. When I called him out, dude just shrugged it off like it was no big deal. The audacity to tell me to ask Emma for “dumpling folding tips” after I slaved away cooking? Oh hell naw. I was so heated, I just packed my bags and crashed at my old place for a bit. Noah didn’t even seem to notice I bounced until way later when his growling stomach finally clued him in. Dude had the nerve to whine about being hungry after pulling that stunt! Things got real when I found a video from the local preschool’s family sports day. There was my man, bonding with Emma and her kid like one big happy fam while I sat at my checkup alone. Turned out his “overtime” excuse was just a flat-out lie. I started questioning if Noah was even cut out for fatherhood. If some rando single mom could make him ditch me and our unborn kid, who’s to say he wouldn’t keep bailing for the next one who batted her lashes? When I finally confronted him about the video, Emma pulled the classic crocodile tears, blabbering about how she’d “never wreck our family.” Her little brat was even shooting me stank eyes like I was the homewrecker! The sheer audacity of it all made me want to hurl. I laid it all out – if Noah was still a man of his word, we needed to go our separate ways so he could play house with his new fam. Dude tried damage control, saying I was overreacting and that he was just “helping out” since the kid didn’t have a dad around. Like, sorry my inability to push a kid out makes me incapable of basic empathy? I didn’t sign up to be a co-parent for every sad sack kiddo in town. Noah couldn’t understand why I was being “so cold and unsympathetic.” Um, hello? I’m the pregnant one getting left in the dust here! We went round and round until he finally admitted he couldn’t stand to see Emma’s son “go through the same hardship” he did without a dad. Look, I feel for the guy’s rough upbringing, but that’s no excuse to lie and ditch your own family. If he wants to go play daddy for Emma’s kid, that’s his choice – but it won’t be with me in the picture. I headed back to my little downtown apartment, totally drained from the emotional rollercoaster. Maybe it was the stress, but that night my stomach felt queasy. I’m pretty health-conscious, so I swung by the clinic for a checkup. The doc said the pregnancy wasn’t looking too stable and advised me to take it easy – no heavy lifting or I could miscarry. I went home and lay awake, mulling over the past, present and future. I had a decent job, savings, wheels – all the basics to live comfortably, even solo. Why put up with this crap? Especially over a loser like Noah Williams. After some soul-searching, I decided to terminate the pregnancy the next morning. The fetus was only a few months along, so it was a straightforward procedure, but still tough – it was my flesh and blood, you know? I just didn’t feel ready to be a single mom. The abortion knocked me around, so I crashed at my place while getting the divorce papers drafted up. With no kids involved, it was a pretty clean split – one car each, and we’d go fifty-fifty on the home we bought as newlyweds. I couriered Noah’s copy, but he flipped out, probably thinking I was bluffing about pulling the plug on our marriage. He demanded to meet up, but I shut that down – just sign the damn papers, bro. Noah didn’t know my unit number, and that complex has strict privacy policies, so staff weren’t letting any randos snoop around. There was no point meeting anyway since divorce was a done deal. A few days later, Noah’s mom calls me frantic – some sketchbag was posted up at our place! Instantly, I knew it was Emma Johnson, that little homewrecker he couldn’t keep his hands off. I felt disgusted hearing it, but not shocked – those two were gonna hook up eventually. Still, the disrespect of moving her in before we were even legally divorced? Low blow. I didn’t respond at first, but Noah’s mom kept pushing, realizing something was up. “Is Noah running around on you? Bringing other women over?” We hadn’t told our families about separating yet. I didn’t want to worry my parents, and Noah was the same – his mom has a wicked temper and health issues, so he didn’t want to drop that bomb on her. But now the poor woman stumbled into this mess. Emma tried playing it cool, all “It’s just a big misunderstanding, Auntie! Noah’s such a sweetheart for helping me out. With sis-in-law gone, he needed an extra hand around the house sometimes.” Noah’s mom was having none of it. “My son’s a grown man! If he can’t look after himself, I failed as a mother!” She kicked Emma out, then I broke down and explained everything – the affair, the decision to divorce, even my abortion. Noah’s mom erupted, slapping him hard across the face. “Neglecting your own wife and child to play daddy to some other kid? Have you lost your damn mind?”
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