My name is Anna, and nothing could’ve prepared me for what happened that night.

After being told I likely couldn’t have children, my husband Alex and I left the doctor’s office in silence. On the way home, he whispered, “Mother will tear us apart.” I feared he was right.

At his father’s birthday party, I felt like an outsider. Then, in front of everyone, his mother raised a glass and announced that Alex was going to be a father. A young pregnant woman walked in. His mother hugged her and said, “Here she is — the one who will carry on our family line.”

The room went silent. Then Alex stood up.

“Yes, I knew her. But it ended before I ever met Anna. I just found out she’s pregnant — and I don’t even know if the baby is mine. Mom, you had no right to do this.”

I walked out, heartbroken. Outside, Alex caught up with me.

“If it’s my child, I’ll do what’s right — but I love you, Anna. No past, no child will change that. We’re a family. I won’t let anyone ruin that.”

And for the first time that night, I believed him.