I’m Penny, 25 weeks pregnant with our miracle baby. After two years of trying, I thought everything was falling into place. But pregnancy hasn’t been easy—migraines leave me curled in dark rooms. So when my mother-in-law Martha suggested I skip the Fourth of July parade, citing the noise, I reluctantly agreed.

Steve promised he’d only go for his grandpa. I stayed home, tired but hopeful, until our kitchen faucet burst like a geyser. Soaked and panicked, I FaceTimed Steve. He answered, annoyed and distracted, then hung up. But the call didn’t disconnect—and that’s when I saw it.

No parade. Just a backyard barbecue at his aunt’s house, and sitting beside him was Hazel—his ex. Dressed in red, laughing, leaning in close. Martha smiled nearby, saying it was “just like old times.” I stood in our flooded kitchen, heart sinking.

Twenty minutes later, I was standing in that backyard. Silence fell. Hazel asked who I was. “I’m his wife,” I said. “And I’m 25 weeks pregnant with his child.” Her face twisted in shock. “You told me you were single,” she said to Steve. Martha accused me of being clingy. Then she said the baby might not even be his.

Hazel stormed out. Steve stared at the ground. That was it for me. I packed a bag and went to my best friend’s place.

Now, I’m planning a new future—alone but strong. My child deserves better. And this Independence Day? It gave me mine.