My wife, Emily, walked up to me this morning with a big smile on her face. “Guess what, James?” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I applied to be a surrogate mother, and I got approved!”

I stared at her, my mind racing. “You did what?” I asked, trying to keep calm.

“I’m going to be a surrogate mother,” she repeated, her smile faltering. “I want to help another family have a baby.”

“Emily, this affects all of us,” I said, feeling my agitation rise. “We’ve been trying for our own baby. How is this going to work?”

“I know it’s a big decision,” she said, looking down. “But it’s a selfless act. I can help a family that can’t have children.”

“But at what cost?” I asked, frustrated. “What about our family? Our marriage? Your health?”

“I’ve thought about it a lot, James,” she said, her voice soft. “I believe it’s the right thing to do.”

We needed to talk more about this. It wasn’t just her decision—it was about all of us.

Later, at her clinic appointment, I ran into her ex, Tom. “Tom?” I said, shocked. Emily quickly explained, “Tom and his wife needed a surrogate. I volunteered.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, feeling betrayed.

“I always wanted a child with Tom. I still love him,” she admitted.

I left, heartbroken. Back home, I packed a bag and took our kids to my parents’ house.

Emily decided to get back together with Tom and didn’t fight for custody. I was granted full custody, focusing on Jack and Lily. Slowly, life began to feel normal again. Despite Emily’s betrayal, I found peace and happiness, building a new life with my kids.