My Ex-husband and His Mistress Mocked Me in Public

I never imagined I’d see them again. Not after everything. But there they were—my ex-husband Liam and my former best friend Daria—standing in front of me like smug ghosts from a life I buried. And the moment they opened their mouths, I realized they still thought I was the same broken woman they left behind.

We’d once been the textbook definition of stability. Predictable. Steady. Safe. For a girl raised on chaos, that kind of life felt like heaven. Liam and I both had solid jobs—me in marketing at a local restaurant, him in tech. But what we wanted more than anything was to be parents. That was the dream we whispered about late at night. After two years of trying, I finally saw two pink lines.

I still remember his face when I told him—sunlight spilling across the counter, the baby onesie trembling in his hands, tears welling in his eyes. Mine too.

But the dream didn’t last. At eleven weeks, I miscarried.

Grief swallowed me whole. I couldn’t walk through a grocery store without crying in the baby aisle. I joined a support group. Took leave. Lost myself.

Liam withdrew. I thought he needed space. I thought he was mourning in his own quiet way. I didn’t push. I should have.Read More Below