My name is Rowan, I'm 32 and pregnant with my first child.
I planned the most chaotic gender reveal imaginable, not for attention, but because my husband was cheating on me.
With my sister.
Blake and I had been together for eight years, married for three. He was adorable, the kind of man people said they were "lucky" to have. When I told him I was pregnant, he really cried, hugged me tightly, and promised me we would be wonderful parents.
I believed him.
We planned a big gender reveal because our families love spectacles. A backyard party, decorations, cupcakes, cameras, and a giant white box to reveal the baby's gender. My sister, Harper, insisted on being the one to handle the reveal, since she was the only one who knew.
Two days before the party, Blake was in the shower. A phone rang on the coffee table. I answered, thinking it was mine.
It wasn't.
A message from a saved contact appeared like “
Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, love.”
My body grew cold.
I opened the chat. Flirting. Plans. Messages like "Delete" and "She doesn't suspect anything, she's distracted by the pregnancy."
Then I saw a photo.
Women's clavicle. Gold crescent-shaped necklace.
I bought that necklace.
For Harper.
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