I’m Pregnant By A Married Man With 3 Kids

When Marcella whispered, “You’re the reason Daddy cries at night,” my world shattered. Her wide eyes, so like her father’s, pierced me. The café’s noise—spoons clattering, music humming, Dalia’s chair scraping—felt deafening. Dalia, his wife, didn’t yell or lash out. Her eerie calm unnerved me.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I stammered. “He said you were unhappy, staying together for the kids.”

Dalia’s laugh was cold. “He’s said that to every woman he’s cheated with since before Marcella was born.”

Dizzy, I recalled meeting him eight months ago at a wine bar. His charm and attention made me feel alive. He called his marriage loveless, me his light, whispering promises in my bed. He even helped pick baby names. Now, pregnant, I felt utterly alone.

Dalia sent her children outside, then softened. “I’m not here to fight. I want my kids not to hate their father—or you.” She handed me a note with a counselor’s name, used after his first affair. “You’ll need her more than I do.”

“Why help me?” I asked, trembling.

Her gaze was steady. “Because I’ve been where you are.”