One normal morning, I stepped outside and saw something on the back of my boyfriend’s car that stopped me cold—a bright sticker that read, “Just Had a Baby.” We’d been together for two years. We definitely did not have a baby. That moment shattered everything I thought I knew about us.
Life can be terrible sometimes, can’t it? No, scratch that. Life doesn’t just get bad—it can completely fall apart when you least expect it. And that morning was the start of my world falling apart. But hold on, I’m getting ahead of myself.
There was a time when I thought my life was a fairytale. Not perfect, no. But warm, soft around the edges, like all the pieces were finally falling into place.
I had a job I loved. A boyfriend who made me feel special. And we had dreams—big ones—that we were starting to build together. Eric and I had been dating for two years.
Right after the fairytale, something felt off.
It all started suddenly. We met at a concert, and right away, there was a spark—a connection so real it felt like destiny. We talked nonstop after that night.
There was one problem: distance. Eric lived in another city, making things harder than I wanted to admit. But he tried.
Every week, he drove out to see me and stayed at my place. I never went to his. He said he had a roommate and his place wasn’t great for guests.
It made sense. I believed him—or maybe, I just wanted to believe him.
We made plans. Real plans. He said he’d move in with me soon once some work stuff was sorted.
We talked about adopting a dog, redecorating the living room, and building a life together under the same roof.
I held on to those dreams like they were solid, like something I could trust. I had no reason not to.
Then one morning, my phone rang. It was Leslie, my best friend, her voice bubbling with excitement.
“Rachel! Oh my gosh, congratulations! Why didn’t you tell me?”
I was still half asleep, rubbing my eyes. “Tell me what?”
“The baby, of course!”
My heart stopped. “What baby?”
There was a pause. “Yours and Eric’s… right?”
I sat up straight, fully awake now. “Leslie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She hesitated, then said carefully, “I just drove past your house and saw Eric’s car outside. There’s a sticker on the back that says ‘Just Had a Baby.’ I thought… I mean, I assumed…”
I couldn’t speak. My mouth opened, but no words came out. A cold shiver ran down my spine as I stared at the wall.
“Oh no,” Leslie gasped. “Rachel… You didn’t know?”
“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I thought maybe you were keeping it from me. You should talk to him.”
I mumbled a thank you and hung up. Suddenly, the air in the house felt heavy, like it knew a secret I didn’t.
Without grabbing a jacket, I stepped outside and walked straight to Eric’s car.
The sticker that broke my world
There it was, plain as day: “Just Had a Baby.” The kind of sticker new parents proudly display.
My hands shook. My stomach twisted. My brain scrambled for any explanation, but my gut screamed the truth.
I stormed back inside, anger rising fast. Eric was still asleep, his face buried in his pillow like nothing had changed.
“Eric!” I shook him. “Get up.”
He groaned. “What’s going on?”
“Get up now.” I kept shaking him until he finally sat up, rubbing his temples.
He winced. “Rachel, seriously, I have a headache…”
“Then explain the sticker on your car.”
He blinked at me. “What sticker?”
“Don’t pretend. The one everyone on the street can see.”
His face went pale. “I didn’t put it there.”
“Do you have a child, Eric?”
He looked confused, then jumped out of bed and ran outside. I followed.
He stood by the car, staring at the sticker like it was a stranger.
“I swear,” he said, “I didn’t put that there. I don’t know where it came from.”
I crossed my arms. “You expect me to believe someone just walked by and slapped that on your car?”
He hesitated. “We were out last night celebrating my friend’s new baby. Maybe one of the guys thought it would be funny.”
“Funny?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You think this is funny?”
“No! I’m just saying—maybe it was a joke. We used my car to go places. I had no idea until now.”
“Are you sure? Because if you’re hiding something—”
“I’m not,” he said quickly. “Rachel, I love you. No one else. No baby. Nothing.”
He took my shoulders gently, trying to calm me. I didn’t pull away, but inside, I was breaking.
“Alright,” I said after a moment. “I believe you.”
The moment I started to question everything
But even as I said it, something inside me began to change. Trust doesn’t disappear in a second—it starts to rot slowly, quietly.
Later that day, Eric said he had to leave.
“There’s an emergency at work,” he said, grabbing his jacket. “I’ll be back later this week, I promise.”
“Fine,” I said, hiding my disappointment.
As he walked out, I called after him, “Aren’t you going to take that sticker off?”
“I’ll do it later. I’m running late.”
He kissed me, got in his car, and drove away.
I texted Leslie: He said it was a joke from a party. One of his friends must’ve stuck it on.
She replied immediately: Do you believe that?
I stared at the screen and didn’t answer. I didn’t know what to believe.
The rest of the day blurred. I cleaned, paced, folded laundry I didn’t need to fold—anything to keep my mind busy.
But the feeling that something was wrong wouldn’t leave me. It gnawed at me like a constant sharp pain.
I realized I knew almost nothing about Eric’s life. He never introduced me to his friends. Said they all lived far away. No social media. He even told me his parents were dead. There was no way to check any of it.
But I did know where he worked. I opened my laptop and searched for his company’s social media page.
A scroll too far—and a truth I couldn’t unsee
Scrolling through the posts, I found a picture of Eric giving a presentation dated a few months ago.
I read the comments. Then I saw it:
“So proud of my Eric!” — from someone named Susan.
I clicked her profile. Public. My blood turned ice cold.
There were pictures of Eric with a smiling older woman. The caption read, “My wonderful son.”
I kept scrolling. Then another photo of Eric with a little boy, maybe four years old, and a pregnant woman smiling beside him. The caption said, “My son and his beautiful family.”
I stopped breathing.
I clicked on the pregnant woman’s profile. Her page was full of photos—Eric, their son, and a newborn wrapped in a hospital blanket. They looked happy. Complete.
I sat frozen. Two years with him, and I wasn’t a girlfriend—I was a secret.
If I was a secret, she deserved to know
I texted Leslie: Eric’s married. He has kids.
She replied fast: What a jerk. You can’t let him get away with this.
She was right. I had to act. I scrolled through Angela’s profile, the pregnant woman’s. Her latest post was about needing a nanny.
My hands steadied. I called the number.
One night, one truth
The night before the interview, I barely slept. I cried for hours, but it wasn’t sadness anymore. It was anger. Betrayal. Humiliation. But also clarity.
The next morning, I drove to the address Angela had given me. It was a quiet street with a pretty house.
Eric’s car wasn’t there.
I rang the doorbell. Angela opened with a soft smile. She looked tired but kind. She invited me in.
“So,” she said, “do you have experience with children?”
I nodded. “My parents worked a lot, so I helped raise my younger brother. It taught me responsibility.”
“That must’ve been hard.”
“It was, but I’ve always loved kids. That’s why I’m interested in the job.”
She seemed satisfied. We talked a little more, then I gently asked, “Will your husband be home? Or do you raise the kids alone?”
“He should be back any minute,” she said. “Want some tea?”
“Yes, please.”
As she made the tea, I watched her. She didn’t seem like someone who deserved lies. She seemed good. Like me, she had been living a dream—but hers came with a marriage license and kids.
I took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
She turned slowly. “Then why are you here?”
Just then, the front door opened. Eric stepped in. He froze when he saw me. His eyes darted between me and Angela like he saw a ghost.
“Rachel? What—what are you doing here?” he stammered.
Angela frowned. “You two know each other?”
I stood up. “I came to tell your wife the truth.”
He grabbed my arm and dragged me outside.
“Are you crazy? What the hell are you doing?”
“You lied to me. For two years.”
“You can’t tell her. You’ll ruin everything.”
“You ruined everything.”
He changed tactics, desperate now. “I was going to leave her. I want to be with you. You have to believe me.”
“You just had a baby with her. That’s your idea of leaving?”
“It’s complicated!”
“No. It’s deceit.”
I walked back inside. Angela waited, arms crossed.
I looked her in the eyes. “I know this is painful. But it would hurt more if you never knew. Eric and I have been together two years. He said he had no family, no social media, nothing. I swear.”
Angela stared at Eric. “Is that true?”
“She’s insane,” he said. “She’s making this up—”
I pulled out my phone and showed Angela the photos, our texts, and his voice notes.
Her face hardened. “You lied to me.”
She grabbed a dish towel and threw it at him. Then another.
“We have two children! And you—you betrayed us all!”
Eric raised his hands. “Angela, please—”
“I trusted you!” she shouted. “And you made me a fool!”
“I should leave,” I said quietly.
Angela looked at me, eyes wet. “Thank you. For telling me. I know it wasn’t easy.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She nodded.
I walked out, past the man I loved and the woman he broke. I got in my car, started the engine, and drove away.
My chest ached, but inside there was something new—strength. The kind that comes when the lie finally falls apart.
