When Mischa’s trusted family friend violates her deepest secret, she must choose between protecting someone she once knew well or standing up for herself. In a world where betrayal wears a familiar face, Mischa learns that forgiveness doesn’t erase consequences… and some stories must be told on your own terms, no matter the cost.
When I found out I was pregnant, I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Not my friends. Not my family. I just wanted to keep it between my boyfriend, my doctor, and myself.
I was 20. Still figuring out who I was. Still making peace with the fact that adulthood doesn’t come with a manual. A baby? Goodness me. It felt both terrifying and beautiful. Like standing at the edge of a cliff with your arms open.
A pensive young woman | Source: Midjourney
So, I made an appointment at one of the best OB-GYN offices in town. It was clean, professional, and discreet. It was exactly what I needed.
Or so I thought.
When I walked into the waiting room, my heart stopped for a second.
Behind the reception desk, flipping through paperwork like it was any normal Tuesday, stood Monica, an old friend of my mom’s.
The interior of an OB/GYN office | Source: Midjourney
I froze in the doorway, my heart lodging somewhere between my ribs and my throat. I did remember her from when we were younger though. Monica used to basically live in our home. Visiting all the time. I hadn’t seen her in years but I knew they still texted occasionally. Christmas cards. Birthday wishes. The occasional “we must catch up” lunch that never actually happened.
The air in the waiting room felt too sharp, like breathing in tacks. I told myself not to panic. Monica wasn’t just a receptionist anymore, she was a medical assistant now. She’d know better… she had to.
Right?
A medical professional looking at a clipboard | Source: Midjourney
Confidentiality was everything in healthcare.
Surely, she would be professional.
Surely.
I filled out the clipboard with shaking hands, feeling her eyes flicker toward me and then away, polite but not oblivious. Every fibre of my body screamed that this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.
A young woman sitting in a doctor’s room | Source: Midjourney
I went through the appointment trying to block it all out, the tension in my shoulders, the tight ache under my skin.
Instead, I focused on the doctor’s kind voice. The cold gel smeared across my belly. The faint, miraculous thud-thud of a heartbeat emerging from the static. Tiny. Fragile. Real.
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as the grainy shape appeared on the monitor.
A life. A beginning.
A doctor standing in her office | Source: Midjourney
Something so impossibly mine that it made my chest hurt with a strange, wild kind of love. I clutched the ultrasound photo on the drive home, holding it against my chest like a fragile secret, emotions swirling too fast to name.
And when I opened the front door, my mom was already there.
Beaming. Congratulating me loudly. Throwing her arms around me like it was Christmas morning, her voice bubbling with excitement I couldn’t match.
“You’re going to be such a good mom, Mischa! I’m so happy for you! My baby is having a baby!” she gushed, squeezing me tighter.
A smiling woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
The room tilted sideways, the walls pressing in.
I hadn’t said anything yet.
I hadn’t even decided if I wanted to tell her today. Or tomorrow. Or next week. I hadn’t even had time to process the reality myself, let alone share it.
A pensive young woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
My mom kept talking, oblivious to the way my hands hung limply at my sides. She floated between baby names, crib shopping, nursery colors… all the while I stood frozen, the blood draining from my face, my heartbeat hammering somewhere near my throat.
Somewhere between “maybe Emma if it’s a girl?” and “I have the old bassinet in the garage,” I found my voice.
It came out thin and brittle.
A baby bassinet in a garage | Source: Midjourney
“Mom,” I interrupted, swallowing hard. “How… how did you know?”
She blinked at me, confused, almost amused.
“Darling, Monica texted me, of course!”
A smiling woman in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Just like that.
Casual. Cheerful. Oblivious.
Monica had reached out and ripped away my most personal moment before I even made it home.
I mumbled something about needing the bathroom and stumbled down the hall, locking the door behind me.
The cold tiles pressed against my bare feet. I sank onto the closed toilet lid, pressing my trembling hands into my forehead, willing the spinning in my head to stop.
A young woman standing in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney
A deep, hollow ache ballooned inside my chest, swallowing everything else.
It wasn’t just gossip. It wasn’t just excitement. It was a violation. It was my life and someone else had decided that they had the right to announce it for me.
Every fear I’d carefully tucked away, judgment, pressure, losing control of my own story… came roaring up at once, crashing through the thin walls I’d tried so hard to build around myself.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
I wasn’t ready to shout my pregnancy from the rooftops.
I wasn’t ready for advice, for sidelong glances, for whispers behind my back about “the poor young girl who ruined her life.” I wasn’t ready for anyone else’s hands in my future, tugging at it, twisting it.
It was mine. And now it wasn’t.
An upset and stressed young woman | Source: Midjourney
The knowledge sat like a stone in my stomach, heavy and cold. I wanted to scream.
I wanted to march back to that OB office and demand Monica’s badge, her job, her dignity. To burn everything down just so someone, anyone, would understand what had been taken from me.
But my mom, still smiling a little too brightly, still hoping everything could be smoothed over, begged me not to.
A pensive woman sitting at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
“She meant well, Mischa,” she said softly, wringing her hands and looking at the freshly baked scones on the table. “Please, baby… just talk to her first. Give her a chance? Yes?”
Meant well. Meant well?
It was funny how people used that phrase like it erased damage.
I wasn’t feeling merciful. Not even a little. But I was feeling strategic.
A plate of scones with cream and jam | Source: Midjourney
Anger could scorch the earth, sure. But sometimes, patience could break it open.
If Monica didn’t realize what she’d done to me, she would do it to someone else. Someone younger, maybe? Someone still living under their parents’ roof, someone who could be hurt worse.
Someone without a safe place to land.
I couldn’t let that happen. No way!
A young woman sitting at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
So, we set a trap.
The next day, my younger sister, Allie, texted Monica, pretending she needed advice about medical school applications. Monica agreed immediately, thrilled at the idea of “mentoring” a future healthcare worker.
I could almost hear her preening through the text messages, already imagining herself as a wise sage, guiding another generation.
A phone on a table | Source: Pexels
That evening, Monica waltzed into our kitchen like she owned the place. Her hair was sprayed into a stiff helmet, her perfume so thick it clung to the air like syrup.
She kissed my mom on the cheek, patted Allie’s shoulder, and smiled at me like nothing had ever happened.
“I hope you made your roast chicken, Madeline!” she said to my mother. “I remember how much I loved it the first time I ever tasted it. Wow.”
Food on a table | Source: Pexels
My mom smiled and nodded.
“Of course, Mon,” she said. “Roast potatoes and the works.”
We made small talk, the kind that scratched at my skin. College classes. SAT scores. Internships, blah blah blah. I let her settle in, watching her posture relax as she sipped on hibiscus tea, her guard dropping quickly.
When the moment felt right, I leaned across the table, keeping my smile sugary sweet.
A cup of tea on a table | Source: Unsplash
“So… what’s the policy about patient confidentiality, Monica?” I asked, tilting my head just slightly.
Monica chuckled, waving a manicured hand dismissively.
“Oh, it’s super strict,” she said. “You can never share patient information. It’s a total disaster if you slip up. You can lose your job, your license… everything. It’s not worth it, really.”
A close up of a woman | Source: Pexels
I nodded, slowly, deliberately. Letting the silence stretch just long enough for discomfort to creep in.
“So technically,” I said lightly. “You weren’t supposed to tell my mom about my pregnancy, right? According to what you’ve just explained, I mean. Right, Mon?”
Her smile froze.
You could almost hear the gears grinding in her head as the realization hit.
A woman hidden by her hair | Source: Unsplash
Across the table, Allie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her hands pulling at the hem of her sweater. She had been uneasy since Mom and I told her she was going to be an aunt.
“Well…” Monica stammered, a nervous laugh bubbling up. “That’s different, Mischa! Your mom’s my friend. It’s not like I told a stranger!”
I kept my expression as neutral as possible, my hands calmly folded on the table.
A close up of a blonde woman | Source: Pexels
“Oh,” I said, my voice feather-soft. “So there are exceptions, then?”
Monica’s face darkened. Her shoulders tensed, the mask slipping fast.
“I did you a favor!” she snapped. Her voice was shrill now, slicing through the kitchen’s heavy air. “You were scared. I could see it in your face. I helped you! You had that same haunted look that young women have when they don’t know how to tell their families… you should be grateful.”
An upset young woman | Source: Pexels
The kitchen seemed to shrink around us, the tension vibrating in my bones.
Allie sat frozen across the table, wide-eyed, the color draining from her face.
I pushed back my chair slowly, the scrape of the legs against the floor loud and deliberate.
“You didn’t help me,” I said quietly, my voice steady and cold. “You stole a moment that wasn’t yours to take. You stole a precious moment from me.”
An uncomfortable teenage girl | Source: Pexels
Monica’s hands shook visibly. She opened her mouth as if to protest again but no words came out.
She saw it then. She’d already lost.
She left quickly after that, muttering something about not being hungry. Something about “good luck” over her shoulder. The door slammed harder than necessary.
I stood there in the quiet kitchen, my hands trembling, my heart racing but feeling a little steadier inside.
A pensive woman | Source: Pexels
I had given her a chance to recognize her mistake.
She didn’t. She doubled down. She would do it again.
“Girls, let’s have dinner,” my mother said quietly. “You need to eat, Mischa. Your body needs good sustenance for the baby.”
A plate of food | Source: Pexels
The next morning, I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop open. The “Submit” button glowing at the bottom of the complaint form.
My finger hovered over the mouse for a long moment, heart thudding slow and heavy in my chest. I wasn’t cruel. I truly wasn’t.
I didn’t blast Monica on social media. I didn’t rant or call her names. I didn’t tell anyone outside of my family. I simply stated the facts.
A laptop on a table | Source: Unsplash
Monica had breached patient confidentiality. She had shared private, sensitive medical information without consent. While my case hadn’t ended in tragedy, another patient might not be so lucky.
A soft breeze drifted through the open window, stirring the papers on the table, brushing my skin like a nudge forward.
I took a deep breath and clicked submit.
A close up of a young woman | Source: Unsplash
At the OB’s office, the manager listened carefully, her face grave and still.
Later, I learned that Monica had previously completed, and signed, a mandatory confidentiality training, explicitly reaffirming that she understood the rules she had broken.
They took it seriously. Very seriously.
A few days later, Monica was placed under internal investigation and suspended while the clinic decided her fate.
A person holding a clipboard with a contract | Source: Pexels
At dinner one evening, my mom twisted her fork through her mashed potatoes, her voice barely above a whisper.
“She’s losing everything, Mischa. Her job. Her reputation. She called me earlier today.”
I stared down at my own plate, the food untouched and cold, feeling both heavier and lighter at once.
“I didn’t do that,” I said quietly. “Monica did.”
A bowl of mashed potatoes | Source: Pexels
There’s a difference between being kind and being a doormat. There’s a difference between forgiveness and allowing someone to hurt others just because they didn’t hurt you badly enough.
Forgiveness doesn’t erase consequences.
It just means that you don’t let their actions define your future.
Weeks passed.
A young woman leaning against a wall | Source: Unsplash
The early spring sun grew warmer, wrapping the afternoons in gold. My belly grew. My excitement grew. And so did my confidence.
I told people about my pregnancy on my own terms, in my own words, in my own time. Not because someone stole the story from me. But because I chose to share it.
The first time I posted my ultrasound photo online, I hesitated, staring at the screen, my thumb trembling slightly over the button.
An ultrasound | Source: Pexels
Tiny fingers. A curled-up nose. A future that was still mine to shape.
I smiled.
Not everyone deserves access to every part of your story. Especially the parts you’re still writing.
A person holding an ultrasound | Source: Unsplash
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
When Mia honors her late mother at a family dinner, her stepmother’s cruel outburst ignites a truth long buried. Forced to choose between silence and self-respect, Mia walks away and writes a letter that could shatter everything. This is a raw, unforgettable story about grief, memory, and what it takes to reclaim your voice.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
New Father Kicks Wife With Newborn Twins onto the Streets, Years Later He Begs Her for Help – Story of the Day
A minted father who is unwilling to spend money to raise his newborn twins asks his wife to give up one baby for adoption. He kicks her out with the babies when she refuses and knocks on her door for help five years later.
It was a cold, rainy night, and Angie cradled her newborn babies at the bus stop. “Where will we go? Jesus, please help us. Shelter us as we wait out this rough night,” she cried, wiping warm tear droplets off her babies’ faces. Angie had nowhere to go, and her parents had died long back.
Suddenly, she sensed something creeping behind her and was terrified. Angie mustered the courage to protect her babies from whatever it was. “It’s a dog!” she sighed.
Angie never imagined her life would turn topsy-turvy overnight. She never thought her husband Jake, who she trusted and loved throughout their marriage, would kick her out with their babies just a week after their birth…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
“How I wish my mom were with me today…Sorry, mama, I should’ve listened to you and not rushed with my marriage with Jake,” sobbed Angie, thinking about her late mom.
“You can stay in this house as long as you agree to keep just one baby or leave if you want to keep both. Decide wisely, dear.”
Angie met Jake after graduation five years ago. He was a young, handsome man, and she thought he was the one. They fell for each other in what would turn into a fairytale love story, but with one exception—there was no ‘happily ever after’ in Angie’s case.
Problems sparked in the fourth year of their marriage when she told Jake she was pregnant.
“But darling, you know I’ve just started my business. We have postponed baby planning all these years, and I am not ready to be a father yet,” Jake was upset when Angie showed him the two pink lines on her pregnancy test kit.
Jake’s reluctance to be a father showed he was unprepared for responsibilities. Poor Angie was torn between his disapproval of having children and her desire to have as many as possible. But was Jake prepared to know Angie was pregnant with twins?
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I am okay with having a baby…you get it? I mean, one baby is enough,” said Jake as Angie walked into the ward for scanning. “I pray that you don’t come out and tell me we are having twins,” he joked, his mouth curved into an ironic smile. Moments later, fate joked back at him.
Angie came out, distressed and worried. She was pale while she was supposed to be blushing and smiling.
“What is it?” he asked her, impatient for her reply. “What did the doctor say?”
Angie swallowed her fear and spoke out, partly guessing Jake’s reaction. “Our babies are fine,” she said.
“Alright…wait, what…babies?” he exclaimed.
The scan Angie took minutes ago gave her a glimpse at two tiny lives growing inside her. She was pregnant with twins, and Jake was not happy about that.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jake stormed to his car as Angie read his mind and pictured his frustrations. She was nervous and thought he had joked about having only one baby. But his reactions proved otherwise.
Jake grew distant from Angie day by day and focused only on making more money. She knew he was upset about having twins and assumed he would cool down with time. But it only worsened during her third trimester.
Angie was in the hospital, waiting for Jake to see their newborn twin baby girls. But he never showed up. He sent his maid and driver three days later to bring Angie and their babies home.
Jake did not want to get involved with his babies. He didn’t even welcome them home or hold them. He was unhappy and unprepared to be their father.
Angie returned home with her newborns that evening, knowing little about Jake’s condition. “We keep only one child and give the other up for adoption. If you are okay with it, we are a family. If not, you can leave the house with them,” he told Angie.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
At first, Angie thought Jake was kidding. He dragged her suitcase to the living room and placed it in front of her, indicating he was serious.
“I’m not ready to raise two children and burn a hole in my pocket. My business is fetching a lot of profits, and I need to focus on making more money…I don’t want to waste my time and wealth on raising two babies when I can easily raise just one,” he explained.
Angie was devastated. “They are our babies, Jake. How could you ask a mother to give up her baby? Are you out of your mind? Both my babies are our symbol of love,” she cried. But Jake was stubborn.
“My business has just started to flourish, and I don’t have the time to focus on family. I don’t want to waste my hard-earned money on two babies. You can stay in this house as long as you agree to keep just one baby or leave if you want to keep both. Decide wisely, dear,” he said, despite knowing Angie had nowhere to go.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
The poor mother’s choice was obvious. She took her suitcase and left the house with the babies. Jake’s greed for his newfound riches blinded his devotion to family. He failed as a husband and a father. But it didn’t matter to him.
Angie snapped to her present and found herself still deserted at the bus stop, cradling her babies. “Where will I go? Please help me, Jesus,” she cried and was disrupted by an intense beam of light rays.
“Hello there, are you alright? It’s raining heavily. Would you like a ride, my dear?” an older woman called out to her from a taxi. Angie looked up and saw a nun. She wrapped her babies in her jacket and approached the car.
“Oh my, how adorable your babies are!” exclaimed the nun. “Get in. I’ll drop you. Where do you want to go?”
“I don’t know, Sister,” said Angie. “My path is dark, and I am lost. I don’t know which way to go. My babies and I were abandoned by someone dear to us.”
The nun understood Angie’s misery and immediately took her to the convent.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
Angie and her daughters, Sophie and Marley, found a safe shelter to wait out the rough days of their lives. Angie taught in the school administered by the church. She also worked part-time in a restaurant, and two years later, she saved a good chunk of money to start her café.
Gradually, Angie was able to give her daughters a better life, though it could’ve been much better had their father been involved. Moreover, Angie did not regret her decision not wanting to divorce Jake. Deep in her heart, she hoped he would realize his mistake and come for them someday.
Five years passed, and Angie now had her own house. It was quite small yet comfortable. She spent the best years watching Sophia and Marley grow up.
There were times when Angie used to struggle without enough profits in business, but her faith and determination motivated her. She launched two more coffee shops in town, and gradually, her fortune grew. But in the other part of town, Jake’s business tanked.
He was drowned in debt, and everybody he sought financial help from refused to support him at the last minute. Jake knew how rich Angie was now and thought only she could help him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
“Hey, how are you?” Angie answered the door one day when she least expected to see Jake at the doorstep. “Come in!”
Jake vaguely smiled and immediately apologized to Angie. “Darling, I’m so sorry for abandoning you. My greed to earn more money cost me big. I am bankrupt, and it’s the best punishment I deserve for kicking you out with our babies. Please forgive me, and please help me.”
Angie now understood why Jake had come. She had learned about his loss in business but never thought he would visit her and apologize, let alone ask for help.
Jake saw a photo of Angie with their daughters and cried. “I’m sorry, sweethearts. Please forgive your daddy,” he said. Angie’s heart melted, and though she knew Jake had come crawling for help, she was willing to do it because she still loved him.
“But darling, I will not be able to repay such a huge amount of money. I will need time. I was such a cruel husband and a heartless father. Are you sure you want to help me?” he sobbed when Angie gave him a check worth the money he wanted.
“The night you kicked me out, I learned what greed is and how it can ruin relationships. And today, I learned what forgiveness is. What are we going to achieve by holding onto our past grudges? Nothing! Everyone makes mistakes, but as humans, we must learn to forgive one another,” said Angie.
Jake realized his mistake and promised to take Angie and their kids back once he sorted his business issues. He wanted to be a good father to his children and compensate for the heartbreak Angie endured all these years.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
What can we learn from this story?
- Do not walk past the needy. When the nun saw Angie and her newborn babies stranded at the bus stop on a rainy night, she offered them a ride. She took them to the convent and offered shelter after learning of the mother’s misery.
- One of the best attributes of humans is our ability to forgive. Despite being wronged by Jake, Angie forgave him and helped him financially when he came to her and apologized.
A woman in labor with her second child gets a call and learns her older son she neglected throughout his life has died an hour before. Click here to read the full story.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.
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