When my boyfriend dumped me for the one person I trusted most—my own mother—I thought the pain would crush me. He believed he could betray me and then walk away without ever facing the consequences. But what he didn’t know was that I had no intention of letting him get away with it.
People always say no relationship is perfect, and I told myself that about Travis and me for the longest time. Sure, we argued sometimes. Travis could be distant, dismissive, and had this awful habit of making everything about himself. But I convinced myself that we had love—at least, I thought we did.
There were good moments. He used to bring me coffee in bed—just how I liked it, with a splash of oat milk and two sugars. He’d leave little sticky notes on the fridge that said things like “You got this” or “Smile, today’s yours.” Sometimes, when we lay in bed at night, he’d play songs on his phone and whisper, “This one reminds me of you.”
I thought that was what love was—holding on through the imperfections.
We had been living together for almost a year, and I believed we were building something real.
My mother, Linda, visited often. She always said she just wanted to help. She’d bring homemade chicken soup, fold laundry when I hadn’t gotten around to it, and give unsolicited advice about decorating or cooking. At first, I was grateful. I even felt lucky to have a mom who cared enough to be around.
But then came that one awful afternoon.
I left work early with a pounding headache, desperate to rest. The moment I opened the door, I heard soft music playing and voices—familiar ones. I thought maybe Travis was watching TV, but when I walked into the living room, my entire world shattered.
Travis was kissing my mother. His hands were on her waist. She was smiling.
I froze, then screamed, “What the hell is going on?!” My voice cracked with pain and rage. My chest was tight. My hands shook.
Travis sighed, looking annoyed, not guilty. “Rachel, I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
Linda just crossed her arms and tilted her head, like I was a child throwing a tantrum. “You always make everything a crisis,” she said. “We were going to tell you.”
My mouth dropped open. “You were going to what? Sit me down like it’s some family meeting and say, ‘Surprise, we’re a couple now’? You’re my mother!”
My voice shook as I stepped closer. “How could you do this to me?”
Linda didn’t even flinch. Her tone was cold. “Travis deserves someone who listens to him. Someone who isn’t constantly exhausted or nagging. Maybe if you had been more of a woman, this wouldn’t have happened.”
I could hardly breathe.
Travis added, “You haven’t exactly been easy to live with, Rachel. You shut down every time we had a real conversation. Linda gets me.”
It felt like being stabbed in the chest. I grabbed his coat from the chair and hurled it at him. “Get out. Both of you.”
And they did. They walked past me like I was nothing.
For two days, I couldn’t even cry. Then came the nausea. At first, I thought it was stress, but after the third time I threw up in the morning, I knew something was wrong.
I bought pregnancy tests. Six of them. All positive. I was carrying Travis’s child—the same man who betrayed me with my own mother.
Three days later, I called him.
“I’m pregnant,” I said flatly.
Silence. Then his voice: “Are you sure?”
“Six tests. They all say the same thing.”
That evening, he showed up with a small bag. “I brought crackers, ginger tea. I looked up what helps.”
I crossed my arms. “You think snacks fix betrayal?”
“I’m trying to be involved,” he said defensively. “You always say I don’t show up. Well, I’m here now.”
I glared at him. “You’re here because you got caught.”
But he kept coming over that week, talking about baby names—Ella, Jacob—like we were still a couple. He asked about doctors, baby clothes, even sat on the couch chatting about his job. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t know why. Maybe I needed time.
Then one night, my phone rang. Linda’s name flashed across the screen. My gut clenched, but I answered.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, though her voice held an edge. “Just wanted to let you know—I’m pregnant too.”
I froze.
She continued, “And yes, I planned it. I knew you’d try to use your little surprise to win him back, so I made sure he’d stay with me.”
I hung up without a word. My hands were ice.
Later that night, Travis came by again. He sat on the couch, looking restless. “Did she tell you?”
I stared at him. “Did you think she wouldn’t?”
He rubbed his face. “I don’t know what to do. I didn’t sign up for two kids. I can barely handle my own life.”
My voice was steady. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before sleeping with two women in the same family.”
He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m just saying… you have options.”
I felt my blood boil. “You mean abortion. You want me to get rid of my baby to make your life easier?”
“I’m just saying it might be for the best,” he muttered.
I stormed to the door and yanked it open. “Get out. And if you ever tell me what to do with my body again, I swear to God—”
He slammed the door behind him. I collapsed, sobbing.
But the next morning, I woke up colder, harder. I wasn’t going to beg Travis. I wasn’t going to plead with Linda. They made their choice. Now it was my turn.
I wrote a letter for my mother, planning to leave it at her house. But when I walked in, I found Travis dragging a suitcase.
“What are you doing?” I demanded.
“Just getting my stuff,” he muttered.
I opened the suitcase. On top were two plane tickets. I held them up. “You’re running away.”
He sighed. “Linda’s been insane since she found out. She won’t stop about the baby. I feel trapped. I was going to send a message once I got out.”
I stared at him in disgust. “You cheated, lied, and destroyed lives—and now you’re blaming us?”
“You both made it messy,” he snapped.
“You are the bad guy,” I said firmly. “You created this mess, and now you want to run from it.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’ve treated me like trash since this started.”
“You humiliated me,” I shot back. “You broke everything. And now you’re doing the same to her.”
He yelled, “Maybe I’m not cut out to be a dad!”
I ripped the plane tickets in half and threw them on the floor. Then I called Linda.
“Your perfect man is standing here with a suitcase and a ticket out of your life. Thought you should know.” I hung up before she could respond.
Travis glared. “What the hell was that?”
“Consequences,” I said. “You’ll hear from my lawyer. You’re paying for both children.”
I left the torn-up letter on the table for him to see, then walked outside into the sunlight. For the first time in weeks, I felt steady.
I didn’t know what kind of mother I would be. I didn’t know how hard the road ahead would get. But I knew one thing for certain: I would never again let anyone make me feel small or unworthy.
Travis and Linda had taken so much from me. But in losing them, I had found something stronger—I had found myself.