The day my son was born should have been the happiest of my life. Instead, it marked the unraveling of my marriage. Ethan and I had been married for 21 years, much of it spent battling infertility. Over time, his support faded, replaced by late nights and secretive phone calls. When I decided to try one last time at 40, Ethan barely reacted. Against all odds, I got pregnant, but he remained distant.

When our son was born, Ethan refused to be in the delivery room. Hours later, he arrived—and shattered me with his first words: “Are you sure this one’s mine?” He accused me of infidelity, citing “proof” from his mother, who claimed I had faked the birth.