Ex-wife becomes pregnant after divorce

Caroline

I stepped through the front door, feeling so tired after a long day at work. I just wanted to relax and find my husband, Jeffrey. But when I walked into the living room, I was stunned with what i saw.There he was, laughing with another woman on our matrimonial bed.

"Babe, what’s happening here?" I blurted out, my voice shaking as I tried to make sense of the scene before me.

Jeffrey turned, his face hardening as if I was a stranger in my own home. "What does this look like to you?"he snapped, rising from the bed with a fierce look in his eyes. He walked toward me, gripping a piece of paper as if it held all the power in the world.

 "Sign the divorce papers!"he said, shoving the document toward me like it was a blunt instrument. 

"B... but babe!!" I stammered, my mind racing with disbelief.

"Will you shut up and just do it already?" His voice was ice-cold, cutting through my confusion like a knife. Each word stabbed at my heart, making me feel like I was on the verge of falling into an abyss.

"Just sign the damn papers!"Jeffrey’s voice was sharp and unforgiving. "You’re nothing but a bad luck charm. I can’t deal with it anymore!"

My breath caught in my throat. "What are you talking about?”I whispered, stepping closer, my heart pounding with desperation.

He shot me a hard look, anger twisting his features. “You’ve messed everything up! Three years of marriage, and you still can’t give me what I want! It’s like you spread misfortune wherever you go!”

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I grappled with his harsh words. “Please, Jeffrey! We’ve been together for three years. Don’t throw it all away because of this!” My voice trembled, a fragile plea against the storm brewing between us.

“I don’t even care that you’ve cheated on me!” I cried out, feeling the sorrow swell inside me. “Just don’t do this!”

The blonde woman lounging against the headboard smirked, her arms crossed, enjoying the chaos happening. “You heard him, sweetheart. He’s done with your excuses.”

My heart continued to beat fast.“Please, Jeffrey,” I sobbed, desperation clawing at my throat. “I just need to get my things. I can leave….”

He laughed harshly, cutting me off. “Your things? I bought everything you think belongs to you! You bring nothing to this marriage but bad luck! Get out of my house!”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stood frozen, disbelief enveloping me as he tossed my handbag at me like it was trash.

“Get out!” he roared again, his voice echoing through our once-happy home like a death sentence.

Stumbling backward, I turned and fled, my heart shattering with every step. The door slammed behind me, the sound ringing in my ears, a final goodbye to the life I thought I had.

Outside, I wandered the streets, feeling lost and confused. The world seemed unreal, distorted by emotions running up in my mind. 

Before I knew it, I was standing outside a bar,a place I’d never thought I’d enter, but I felt an inexplicable pull to go inside.

 Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the heavy door. The stale smell of alcohol and smoke wrapped around me, making me cough but I still walked in.

“Whiskey,” I said hoarsely to the bartender, my voice barely audible above the low hum of conversation.

The bartender nodded and poured a generous shot, sliding it across the bar to me. I fished out crumpled bills from my purse and tossed them onto the counter without counting. “Keep the change,” I mumbled, raising the glass to my lips. 

I took a deep breath, allowing the liquid courage to settle my racing thoughts. My mind drifted back to Jeffrey, his harsh words replaying in my head. Three years together, and it felt like it could all vanish in an instant. Was I really that unlucky? 

I sipped my drink and glanced around the bar, looking for any distraction from my thoughts. The place was filled with people lost in their own worlds, laughing, shouting, and forgetting their worries. I envied them. 

I continued sipping my glass of whiskey  when i suddenly noticed a man sitting alone in the corner, his eyes focused on a glass in front of him. He looked troubled, just like me. Our eyes met briefly, and I felt a sense that he, too, was trapped in something he couldn’t escape. Perhaps he knew the pain of broken promises.

I turned away, not wanting to make eye contact. I didn’t want to share my burdens, not with a stranger anyway. But the whiskey was dulling my senses, making me feel bold. 

After a moment of hesitation, I downed the remainder of my drink and stood up, clutching my purse tighter. I walked toward the man, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

“Mind if I join you?” I asked, forcing a half-smile that I hoped looked genuine.

He glanced up, surprised, but then smiled back, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure, have a seat,” he said, gesturing to the empty chair.

After I sat down, I caught a glimpse of pain in his expression;something familiar. “I’m Caroline,” I introduced myself, trying to sound casual.

“Ancelotti,” he replied, his voice gentle. “What brings you here tonight?”

I hesitated, unsure if I should spill my feelings to a stranger. But somehow, it felt easier to talk to him than to anyone I knew. “Just needed a break, I guess,” I replied slowly, looking down at my hands.

“Who doesn’t?” Ancelotti said with a soft chuckle.“Life can be pretty rough sometimes.”

“Yeah,” I said, almost trembling at the honesty of it all. “I just had the worst night of my life.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, leaning forward slightly. 

I looked into his eyes, and for the first time that night, I felt telling him wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe sharing could help.

Just as I was about to open up, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I jumped, the sudden sound shattering the moment. Glancing at the screen, I saw it was Jeffrey again. My heart raced. 

Should I answer? Or ignore it again? The decision weighed heavily on me as I felt Ancelotti watching me.

“It's everything okay?” he asked.

Just then, I made my choice. I couldn’t let Jeffrey’s chaos ruin another moment of my life. I hit decline and shoved the phone back in my pocket, turning my full attention back to Ancelotti. 

“Yes,” I said, a sense of determination taking hold. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

He said and I forced a smile.

“I think I would inquire about what you'd wanted to say some other time.”

Ancelotti said and stood up ,walking out of the bar.

I was feeling bad and stunned as well.

“Does he think I'm hiding something?

I asked myself, feeling awkward for the way I've got him to think about me.

I took a deep breath and walked to the bartender again.

Why should I even be bothered by a strangers decision? I muttered to myself with a hiss.

The bar became dark and smoky with a blurred music.

I just wanted something strong, something to numb the pain this time around.

"Give me a double whiskey, neat," I told the bartender, my voice cracking a little. 

He looked at me, concern in his eyes. "Ma'am, is everything okay at home?" he asked. 

"Just give me the drink!" I snapped, my voice rising a little. The last thing I wanted was someone questioning my choices.

I dug into my purse, pulled out a wad of bills, and tossed 50 bucks on the counter. "Here," I said, "have this. Stop asking questions."

He stared at the money, surprised. "Again?" he said, barely a whisper.

I shrugged, feeling a little braver all of a sudden. "This is just a small token," I said, "let me grab more." I needed to escape, to forget. One double whiskey wasn't going to cut it.

He just nodded, still looking confused. 

The bartender slid the glass across the bar. "On the house, ma'am," he said, his voice kind.

I took a long swallow, the whiskey burning a warm trail down my throat. It felt good that I'd wanted more. One sip, then another, and the weight of the sadness started to lift. The ache in my chest faded a little, replaced by numbness.

"Another one, please," I mumbled, barely aware of the words leaving my lips. The music in the bar was a distant throb now, the people around me just blurry shapes. I was in my own world, a world where the hurt didn't hurt so much anymore. 

I took another sip, and then another, and another. The alcohol was taking over, making my vision blur.

For a moment, it felt good. I was numb. And for the first time that night, I felt like maybe, just maybe, I could breathe again.