Wrong answer.
Stephanie took off her engagement ring and threw it across the room.
Then she packed a suitcase.
Before slamming the door, she said:
“Don’t call me again!”
And for almost two months…
We didn’t speak.
Not a single text.
Not a single call.
Nothing.
Suddenly, she came back.
She said she’d missed me. That she wanted to fix things.
And because I loved her, I said yes.
But now she was in our kitchen telling me she was ten weeks pregnant.
The dates didn’t add up.
That night, while Stephanie slept beside me, I stared at the ceiling for hours.
I tried to convince myself there was some explanation I was missing.
Maybe I was misunderstanding everything.
But the doubt only grew until, finally, I did something I never thought I was capable of.
I took her phone.
I figured out the unlock code.
And I opened her messages.
At first, everything seemed normal.
Family conversations.
Friends.
Nothing strange.
Then I saw a contact saved simply as:
**”M ❤️”**
My stomach sank.
I opened the conversation.
And I immediately wished I hadn’t.
**Stephanie:** He believed me. Men like him are easy when they’re afraid of losing you.
**Stephanie:** I don’t want him. I want what he has.
**Stephanie:** The house. The money. The ring. I want it ALL.
**Stephanie:** Just stay quiet until I’m sure of everything. Then I’ll take the money and leave while he cries.
I read the messages over and over, searching for another interpretation.
There wasn’t one.
The woman sleeping next to me wasn’t the woman I thought I knew.
And when the sun came up…
I had already decided exactly what I was going to do.
