I had already decided exactly what I was going to do.
Over the next two days, I prepared carefully.
I rented a venue and announced we’d be having a gender reveal party.
Stephanie loved the idea immediately.
“A gender reveal? That’s adorable!”
That reaction alone told me something was wrong.
At ten weeks, finding out a baby’s gender accurately is extremely difficult.
But she never questioned it.
Instead, she eagerly told me her doctor would secretly reveal the gender so I could arrange the cake without knowing beforehand.
I nodded and played along.
I ordered a custom cake.
Invited both families.
Friends.
Everyone.
But that wasn’t all I did.
I also scheduled an appointment with my doctor.
If I was going to destroy my future publicly…
I needed absolute certainty first.
The day of the party arrived.
Guests filled the venue by noon, laughing, drinking, taking photos.
Stephanie arrived last.
She wore a beautiful white dress and smiled like someone who believed she had already won.
She kissed my cheek.
“This is perfect,” she whispered.
I looked at her calmly.
“It will be.”
