A Pottery Party Misunderstanding

…still in love with me.” The room fell silent, the clinking of pottery tools stopping as every eye turned toward us. I blinked, trying to process her words, my heart pounding in my chest. “Excuse me?” I managed to say, my voice trembling. She leaned in closer, her expression softening. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. He told me everything after you two separated for a while last year.

We… we had a moment, but he ended it because he wanted to fix things with you.” My mind raced back to that rough patch in our marriage, the late nights he’d spent “working.” I felt a mix of anger and betrayal bubbling up, but also a strange relief—she said he chose me. I stood up, my hands shaking, and excused myself from the party. That night, I confronted him. Tears were shed, truths were uncovered, and we decided to start fresh—together. Baby #2 deserved a family that fought for each other, and so did we.