While Emma is sitting at her desk one afternoon, she gets a surprise delivery. When she opens the box, she finds a cake with an unsettling message and the pregnancy test she forgot to hide. Will she go home and explain the truth to her husband or let him walk away?
I was at my desk, half-typing an email, half-daydreaming about what to make for dinner when the office delivery guy appeared at my office door. He held a bright pink bakery box in his hands, grinning from ear to ear like he was in on some inside joke I didn’t know about.
A woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
“Good afternoon, Emma!” he said enthusiastically. “This is for you!”
“Thank you, Nico,” I said, blinking as he handed me the box.
I hadn’t ordered anything. There were no birthdays or work celebrations planned. So, who would be sending me a cake? My stomach fluttered with curiosity. My husband, Jake, was one of the head bakers at a fancy bakery in town. So, maybe this was just a little treat from him.
A baker in a bakery | Source: Midjourney
The office buzzed with its usual energy, phones ringing, keyboards clacking, people laughing in the break room, everyone just wanted to get out for the day. But in that moment, it all faded into the background. I slowly untied the ribbon, lifted the lid, and froze.
Scrawled across the top of the cake in black frosting were four words that turned my blood cold:
I am divorcing you.
I stared at the words, blinking in disbelief. But there was more!
Placed neatly on the cake, next to the damning message, was a positive pregnancy test.
A cake with a message and a pregnancy test | Source: AmoMama
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Jake had found it. He’d found the pregnancy test that I’d thrown into the bathroom trash this morning, the same test that I was supposed to pick up and bring with me, easy to hide from Jake.
But I was late, and I had forgotten. Now, this? The cake… this was Jake’s response? Divorce. A cake with a slap-in-the-face message.
A pregnancy test in a bin | Source: Midjourney
I gripped the edge of my desk to steady myself, I could feel a panic attack almost rising to the surface. This wasn’t just some cruel joke. Jake thought I had cheated on him.
Why else would he send this?
I closed the box, my mind racing.
Jake had been told years ago that he was infertile. And he believed that there was no way this child could be his. He thought I’d betrayed him, that I’d gone behind his back after everything we’ve been through.
A closed cake box | Source: Midjourney
The truth, though?
The truth was far more complicated.
I hadn’t cheated. Of course not. I hadn’t been with anyone but Jake. The pregnancy test was mine, yes, but I hadn’t told him yet because I needed confirmation from the doctor first.
Honestly, Jake and I had been through so much heartbreak trying to have a baby that I couldn’t stand the idea of getting his hopes up, only to have them crushed.
An upset couple | Source: Midjourney
I remembered our conversation from three years ago.
“I think we should just stop trying for a while,” I said, sitting on our bed.
“What do you mean, Em?” Jake asked. “Just like that, stop trying?”
“We’ve been trying for a baby for the past eighteen months, Jake. I think our bodies need a moment to breathe.”
“You mean my body?” he asked. “It seems like mine is the problem. The doctors have told us that it’s my fault. It’s my sperm. So, yeah. Let’s stop…”
A woman on the bed | Source: Midjourney
After that, it took a lot of work for Jake and me to get back on our feet as a steady couple. Without the pressure of trying to have a baby, we could barely function.
But now, my husband thought the worst of me.
Grabbing the box, I packed up my things and rushed out of the office, ignoring the concerned looks from my coworkers. I didn’t have time to explain. All I could think about was getting home, facing Jake, and explaining the truth.
A woman driving | Source: Midjourney
When I walked through the front door, I saw him immediately. Jake was pacing back and forth across the living room, his face flushed, his body tense with fury.
He turned the second I stepped inside, his eyes wild.
“Tell me the test wasn’t yours!” he shouted.
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
I placed the cake box gently on the kitchen counter and stood still, facing him.
“It is mine, honey,” I said.
Jake’s expression didn’t soften. He looked angrier; he looked ready to explode.
“If you want a divorce, I won’t stop you,” I continued. “But before you walk away from us, there’s something you need to know.”
A pensive woman | Source: Midjourney
His hands balled into fists at his side.
“What could you possibly say, Emma? I thought you loved me. And yet, here you are, having someone else’s baby?”
“Jake, listen to me!” I interrupted. “This baby is yours. You’re going to be a father!”
The words hung in the air.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
Jake stopped pacing, his brow furrowed. For a moment, he just stared at me as if trying to process what I had said. Then he shook his head, his voice trembling with disbelief.
“No. That’s not possible. Emma, I’m infertile. The doctors said it. We’ve been over this for years.”
“Darling, the doctors were wrong,” I said, stepping closer to him. “I went to see Dr. Harper this morning after I took the test. I didn’t want you to see the test before I spoke to her because false positives happen more often than not. She explained everything to me.”
A smiling doctor | Source: Midjourney
My husband’s eyes searched mine, filled with confusion, but he didn’t interrupt me this time. I took a deep breath, knowing it was the time to explain it all, even though I wasn’t entirely sure he’d believe me.
“Jake,” I began. “You were never completely infertile. Dr. Harper told me that you’ve had a condition called oligospermia. It means that your sperm count was low, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t have children. Dr. Harper said that it’s likely that the stress from trying and failing to conceive over the years might have made it worse.”
Jake just looked at me, unable to speak.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“Baby, you were never completely unable to have kids…”
My husband’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He sank into the armchair as he processed everything I said.
I watched as the anger drained from his face, replaced with a veil of sheer disbelief. He buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as the realization hit him.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Oh my God, Emma,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought you cheated on me. I thought you found someone else because I couldn’t… I thought I couldn’t give you what you always wanted.”
He trailed off, his words dissolving into sobs.
The man I had spent years loving, the man who had been so strong through all our struggles, was breaking down in front of me.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I stood there, watching him crumble, my own heart aching in ways I couldn’t describe. I knew that I should have been happy at this new development in our lives.
I mean, I was finally pregnant after years of trying. This was joy. But I was hurt that Jake had jumped to the worst conclusion, that he hadn’t even asked me before sending that awful cake.
But I understood, too. I understood the years of insecurity, the pain we’d both been through trying to have a child.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so sorry,” Jake said after a while. “I thought… I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t move. I just let him sit there and cry, let him process everything. He apologized over and over, each word dripping with regret. He had been ready to walk away, to end everything because of a misunderstanding, because of his own fears.
But now, now he knew the truth.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “I don’t deserve this chance. But I swear to you, I’ll make it up to you every day. I promise. I’ll be the best father. I’ll be the best husband!”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. This wasn’t how I had imagined telling him. I had dreamed of the moment we’d finally get the news we’d waited so long for. I’d pictured his joy, his tears of happiness. But not this. Not this mess.
But as I stood there, looking at my husband who had just crumbled to pieces, I realized that despite everything, we had been given the one thing we thought we’d never have.
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
A baby.
A future.
“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered, my voice cracking. And for the first time in a long time, I saw hope in Jake’s eyes. When my husband reached for me, this time, I didn’t pull away. We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of a pregnancy and a baby resting on our shoulders.
A couple embracing | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Hired a Fake Boyfriend for Our Family Dinner – It Turned Out to Be the Best Decision of My Life
Family gatherings were the worst for Lara, especially since her sister, Emily, began to make fun of her love life, or lack thereof. Determined to sit through her father’s birthday dinner, Lara decides to hire a boyfriend for the night. Little did she know that something reminiscent of a romantic comedy would soon play out.
I love my family, but family gatherings used to be a nightmare for me. Every single time we got together, my sister Emily would find some way or the other to poke fun at my single life.
Two smiling women | Source: Midjourney
Last Thanksgiving, she took it too far and even set a place at the table for my “imaginary boyfriend,” complete with a hand-drawn face on a napkin. Everyone around the table laughed while I forced a smile.
“It’s funny, Lara!” she would say whenever I brought up the incident.
It was anything but funny.
A dinner table | Source: Midjourney
Now, my father’s birthday is coming up, and of course, it was to be celebrated with a family dinner.
“There’s no way I can sit through another one of those events with my family,” I told my friend, Kate, when we met for coffee.
“I’m telling you now, Emily probably has something up her sleeve already,” I grumbled.
Two women at a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“Then just hire someone out for the night!” Kate chuckled, adding sugar to her coffee.
“Hire a man?” I exclaimed.
“Yes! My sister did it through an agency. She didn’t want to go to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding by herself, so she found the agency. Look, it’s all above board and the guys do exactly what you need them to do.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not… sleazy?” I asked, trying to think of a better word.
Neighbor Asked My Son to Shovel Snow for $10 a Day but Refused to Pay — So I Taught Him a Lesson He’ll Never Forget
When my 12-year-old son Ben took up our wealthy neighbor’s offer to shovel snow for $10 a day, he couldn’t wait to buy gifts for the family. But when that man refused to pay, calling it a “lesson about contracts,” Ben was heartbroken. That’s when I decided to teach him a lesson he’d never forget.
I’d always known my son Ben had a bigger heart than the world seemed to deserve. He was only 12 but carried a determination that could humble men twice his age.
A boy carrying many books | Source: Midjourney
Even so, I never imagined I’d be standing in the icy driveway next to my husband, exacting revenge against the man who thought cheating a child was just another business move.
It all began on a snowy morning early in December. Ben was buzzing with excitement after shoveling the driveway while I made breakfast. He burst into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold.
“Mom, Mr. Dickinson said he’ll pay me $10 every time I shovel his driveway!” His grin stretched ear to ear.
A smiling boy | Source: Midjourney
Mr. Dickinson, our neighbor, was as insufferable as he was wealthy. He always bragged about his business ventures and showed off his luxury toys.
It wasn’t hard to guess he thought he was doing us all a favor by letting Ben “earn” his money. Still, Ben’s excitement was contagious, and I wasn’t about to crush his enthusiasm.
“That’s wonderful, sweetheart,” I said, ruffling his hair. “What’s the plan for all this cash?”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m buying you a scarf,” he said with the seriousness only a 12-year-old could muster. “And a dollhouse for Annie.”
His eyes sparkled as he described every detail of the red scarf with tiny snowflakes, and the dollhouse with working lights that Annie had been obsessed with since she saw it in the toy store’s window display.
My heart swelled. “You’ve got it all planned out, huh?”
A happy woman | Source: Midjourney
He nodded, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “And I’m saving what’s left for a telescope.”
Over the next few weeks, Ben became a blur of determination. Every morning before school, he bundled up in his oversized coat and boots, a knit hat pulled low over his ears. From the kitchen window, I watched him disappear into the frosty air, shovel in hand.
The muffled scrape of metal on the pavement echoed through the stillness.
A boy shoveling snow | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes he’d stop to catch his breath, leaning on the shovel, his breath forming little clouds in the freezing air. When he came inside, his cheeks were red, his fingers stiff, but his smile always shone through.
“How was it today?” I’d ask, handing him a cup of hot chocolate.
“Good! I’m getting faster,” he’d reply, his grin lighting up the room. He’d shake snow off his coat like a dog shedding water, sending damp clumps onto the rug.
A rug in an entrance hall | Source: Pexels
Each evening, Ben would sit at the kitchen table, tallying his earnings. The notepad he used was dog-eared and smudged with ink, but he treated it like a sacred ledger.
“Only 20 more dollars, Mom,” he said one night. “Then I can get the dollhouse and the telescope!”
His excitement made the hard work seem worth it, at least to him.
By December 23rd, Ben was a well-oiled machine of winter labor.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
That morning, he left the house humming a Christmas carol. I went about my day, expecting him to return as usual, tired but triumphant.
But when the door slammed open an hour later, I knew something was wrong.
“Ben?” I called out, rushing from the kitchen.
He stood by the door, his boots half-on, his gloves still clenched in his trembling hands. His shoulders heaved, and tears clung to the corners of his wide, panicked eyes.
A sad boy | Source: Midjourney
I kneeled beside him, gripping his arms. “Sweetheart, what happened?”
He wouldn’t talk at first, but eventually, he told me everything.
“Mr. Dickinson… he said he’s not paying me a single cent.”
The words hung in the air, heavy as a stone.
“What do you mean, he’s not paying you?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Ben sniffled, his face crumpling.
A boy sobbing | Source: Midjourney
“He said it’s a lesson. That I should never accept a job without a contract.” His voice cracked, and the tears spilled over. “Mom, I worked so hard. I just don’t understand. Why would he do this?”
Anger surged through me, sharp and blinding. What kind of person cheats a child as a “business lesson”? I pulled Ben into a hug, pressing my hand against his damp hat.
“Oh, baby,” I murmured. “It’s not your fault. You did everything right. This is on him, not you.” I pulled back, brushing his hair from his face. “You don’t worry about this, okay? I’ll take care of it.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
I stood, grabbed my coat, and stormed across the lawn. The sight of Dickinson’s house, glowing with holiday cheer, only stoked my fury. Laughter and music spilled into the cold night as I rang the doorbell.
He appeared moments later, wine glass in hand, his tailored suit making him look like a villain straight out of a bad movie.
“Mrs. Carter,” he said, his voice oozing false charm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
A man raising one eyebrow | Source: Midjourney
“I think you know why I’m here,” I said evenly. “Ben earned that money. You owe him $80. Pay him.”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “No contract, no payment. That’s how the real world works.”
I clenched my fists, willing myself to stay calm. I opened my mouth to argue about fairness and the cruelty of his supposed lesson, but the look in his eyes told me none of that would persuade him to do the right thing.
A man staring ahead | Source: Midjourney
No… there was only one way to deal with the Mr. Dickinsons of the world.
“You’re absolutely right, Mr. Dickinson. The real world is about holding people accountable.” My smile was so sweet it could’ve rotted teeth. “Enjoy your evening.”
As I walked away, an idea began to form. By the time I stepped back into our house, I knew exactly what had to be done.
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, while Dickinson and his guests still slept, I woke the household with a determined clap of my hands.
“Time to go, team,” I said.
Ben groaned as he crawled out of bed, but caught the determined gleam in my eye. “What are we doing, Mom?”
“We’re righting a wrong.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
Outside, the air was bitter and still. My husband started the snowblower, the rumble cutting through the early quiet. Ben grabbed his shovel, gripping it like a sword. Even Annie, too small for the heavy work, bounced along in her boots, ready to “help.”
We began with our driveway, then moved to the sidewalk, clearing paths for the neighbors. The pile of snow grew steadily as we pushed it all toward Dickinson’s pristine driveway.
The cold bit at my fingers, but the satisfaction of each shovelful fueled me.
A person shoveling snow | Source: Pexels
Ben paused to catch his breath, leaning on his shovel. “This is a lot of snow, Mom,” he said, a smile creeping onto his face.
“That’s the point, honey,” I said, piling another scoop onto the growing mountain. “Think of it as a reverse Christmas miracle.”
Annie giggled as she pushed tiny mounds of snow with her toy shovel. “Mr. Grumpy’s not going to like this,” she chirped.
By mid-morning, Dickinson’s driveway was buried under a fortress of snow.
A huge pile of snow in a driveway | Source: Midjourney
It was higher than the hood of Dickinson’s sleek black car. I dusted off my gloves, stepping back to admire our handiwork.
“That,” I said, “is a job well done.”
It wasn’t long before he noticed. Soon, Dickinson stormed over, his face as red as the Christmas lights on his roof.
“What the hell have you done to my driveway?” he bellowed.
A man shouting at someone | Source: Midjourney
I stepped outside, brushing off my gloves like I had all the time in the world. “Oh, Mr. Dickinson, this is a little something called quantum meruit.”
“Quantum what?” His eyes narrowed, his confusion almost comical.
“It’s a legal concept,” I explained with a smile. “It means if you refuse to pay for someone’s labor, you lose the right to enjoy the benefit of it. Since you didn’t pay Ben, we simply undid his work. Fair’s fair, wouldn’t you agree?”
A woman glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney
Dickinson sputtered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “You can’t do that!”
I gestured toward the neighbors who had gathered to watch, their smiles thinly veiled. “Actually, I can. And if you’d like to call a lawyer, keep in mind that I have plenty of witnesses who saw you exploit a minor for free labor. That wouldn’t look great for someone like you, now would it?”
He glared at me, then at the crowd, realizing he’d lost. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stomped back to his house.
A house decorated for Christmas | Source: Pexels
By evening, the doorbell rang again, and there stood Dickinson, holding an envelope. He didn’t look me in the eye as he handed it over.
“Tell your son I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
I closed the door and handed the envelope to Ben. Inside were eight crisp $10 bills. Ben’s smile was worth more than all the money in the world.
Cash in an envelope | Source: Pexels
“Thanks, Mom,” he said, hugging me tight.
“No,” I whispered, ruffling his hair. “Thank you for showing me what real determination looks like.”
Here’s another story: When I arrived at the hospital to bring home my wife and newborn twins, I was met with heartbreak: Suzie was gone, leaving only a cryptic note. As I juggled caring for the babies and unraveling the truth, I discovered the dark secrets that tore my family apart.
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.
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