One ordinary morning, I stepped outside, ready to start my day, when something caught my eye on the back of my boyfriend’s car—a bright sticker that said, “Just Had a Baby.” My heart skipped a beat. Eric and I had been together for two years, and we definitely did not have a baby. That single sticker cracked everything I thought I knew about us.
Life can be really cruel sometimes, right? Actually, no—let me say it better: life can totally fall apart when you least expect it. But let me take you back to how things were before everything changed.
For a while, I believed my life was like a fairytale. Not perfect, but soft and warm, like everything was finally coming together. I had a job I loved, a boyfriend who made me feel special, and dreams that felt real—dreams we were building together.
Eric and I had met two years ago, and from the moment we met, everything felt right. We connected instantly at a concert, like fate had thrown us together. We never stopped talking after that night. It was magical.
The only problem was distance. Eric lived in another city, which was tough, but he always made an effort. Every week, he drove out to see me and stayed at my place. I never visited him. He said he shared an apartment with a roommate and that it wasn’t the best spot for guests.
It made sense to me that he’d come to me. And I believed him—or, honestly, I wanted to believe him with all my heart.
We made plans—real plans. He told me he was going to move in with me once some work issues were settled. We talked about adopting a dog, redecorating the living room, and building a life together under one roof. I clung to those dreams like they were solid, like I could trust them. I had no reason not to.
Then, one morning, my phone rang. It was Leslie, my best friend, and I could hear excitement buzzing in her voice.
“Rachel! Oh my gosh, congratulations! Why didn’t you tell me?” she said, almost shouting.
Still half asleep, I blinked and rubbed my eyes. “Tell me what?”
“The baby, of course!”
My heart stopped cold. “What baby?”
There was a pause. Then she asked, “Yours and Eric’s… right?”
I sat up, now wide awake. “Leslie, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She hesitated, then said carefully, “I just drove past your house and saw Eric’s car parked outside. There’s a sticker on the back that says ‘Just Had a Baby.’ I thought… I mean, I assumed…”
I couldn’t speak. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I stared blankly at the wall, a cold shiver running down my spine.
“Oh no,” Leslie gasped. “Rachel… You didn’t know?”
“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I thought maybe you were keeping it from me. You should talk to him.”
I mumbled thanks and hung up. The air felt heavier suddenly, like it was full of secrets I didn’t know yet. I walked outside without even grabbing a jacket and went straight to Eric’s car.
There it was. Big, bold white letters across the back window: “Just Had a Baby.” The kind of sticker new parents wear proudly. My hands shook. My stomach twisted. My mind raced for some explanation, but deep down, I knew the truth—something was terribly wrong.
I stormed back inside, anger bubbling under my skin. Eric was still asleep, face buried in his pillow, completely unaware.
“Eric!” I shook him hard. “Get up!”
He groaned, “What’s going on?”
“Get up now,” I demanded, pushing his shoulder until he sat up, rubbing his temples.
He winced. “Rachel, seriously, I have a headache…”
“Would you like to explain the sticker on your car?”
He blinked, confused. “What sticker?”
“Don’t play dumb. The one everyone on the street can see.”
His face drained of color. “I didn’t put it there.”
“Do you have a child, Eric?”
He looked at me like I was crazy, then threw the covers off and ran outside. I followed him. He stared at the sticker as if he was seeing it for the first time.
“I swear,” he said, “I didn’t put that there. I don’t know where it came from.”
I crossed my arms. “You expect me to believe someone just walked by and stuck that on your car?”
He hesitated. “We were out last night celebrating my friend’s new baby. Maybe one of the guys thought it would be funny.”
“Funny?” I repeated, my voice rising. “You think this is funny?”
“No! I’m just saying—maybe it was a joke. We used my car to get around. I had no idea until now.”
“Are you absolutely sure?” I looked him dead in the eyes. “Because if you’re hiding something—”
“I’m not,” he said quickly. “Rachel, I love you. There’s no one else. No baby. Nothing.”
He took my shoulders gently, trying to calm me. I didn’t pull away, but inside, I was breaking.
“Alright,” I said after a moment. “I believe you.”
But even as I said it, something inside me shifted. Trust doesn’t disappear all at once—it rots slowly.
Later that day, Eric said he had to leave. “There’s an emergency at work,” he said, pulling on his jacket. “I’m sorry. I’ll come back later this week, I promise.”
“Fine,” I said, hiding my disappointment.
As he reached his car, I called out, “Aren’t you going to remove the sticker?”
“I’ll do it later. I’m running late.”
He kissed me, got in, and drove away.
I texted Leslie: He said it was from a party. One of his friends must’ve stuck it on.
She replied immediately: Do you believe that?
I stared at the screen for a long time. I didn’t know what to say.
The rest of the day passed in a blur. I cleaned, paced, folded laundry I didn’t need to fold—anything to keep my mind busy.
But the feeling that something was wrong gnawed at me, sharp and constant. I realized I knew very little about Eric’s life. He had never introduced me to his friends.
He said they all lived far away. He had no social media. And once, he told me his parents were dead. There was no way to check.
But I did know one thing—where he worked. I opened my laptop and found his company’s social media page.
I scrolled through posts until I found a photo of Eric giving a presentation. It was a few months old.
Then I saw the comments.
“So proud of my Eric!” said someone named Susan.
I clicked on her profile. It was public. My blood ran cold.
There were pictures of Eric. In one, he stood next to a smiling older woman. The caption read: “My wonderful son.”
I kept scrolling. Then I saw another photo: Eric with a little boy, maybe four years old, and a pregnant woman smiling next to him. The caption read: “My son and his beautiful family.”
I stopped breathing.
I clicked on the pregnant woman’s profile. It was full of pictures—her and Eric, their son, and a newborn baby wrapped in a hospital blanket. They looked happy. Like a real family.
I sat frozen. We had been together two years. I wasn’t the girlfriend—I was the secret.
If I was a secret, then she deserved to know.
I texted Leslie: Eric’s married. He has kids.
She replied: What a jerk. You can’t let him get away with this.
She was right. I had to do something. I scrolled back through the woman’s profile—Angela was her name.
Her latest post was about looking for a nanny. My hands were steady now. I called the number she had listed.
The night before the meeting, I barely slept. I cried for hours, but it wasn’t just sadness anymore. It was anger. Betrayal. I felt humiliated and used. But I also felt something new—clarity.
The next morning, I drove to the address Angela gave me. It was a quiet street.
A pretty house. Eric’s car wasn’t there. I rang the doorbell. Angela opened it, a soft tired smile on her face. She looked kind. She invited me in and led me to the living room.
“So,” she said, “do you have experience with children?”
I nodded. “My parents worked a lot, so I helped raise my younger brother. It taught me a lot about responsibility.”
“That must have been hard,” she said gently.
“It was. But I’ve always loved kids. That’s why I’m interested in this job.”
She seemed satisfied. We talked a bit more, and then I asked carefully, “Will your husband be joining us today? Or are you raising the kids on your own?”
“He should be back any minute,” she said. “Would you like some tea?”
“Yes, thank you.”
In the kitchen, as she made tea, I watched her closely. She didn’t seem like someone who deserved to be lied to. She looked like a good person, living the same dream I had—only hers came with a marriage license and two children.
I took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you,” I said. “I didn’t come here for the job.”
Angela turned slowly. “Then why did you come?”
The front door opened. Eric walked into the kitchen. He froze, his eyes darting between me and Angela like he’d seen a ghost.
“Rachel? What—what are you doing here?” he stammered.
Angela frowned. “You two know each other?”
I stood up. “I came to tell your wife the truth.”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me outside. “Are you crazy? What the hell are you doing?”
“You lied to me. For two years.”
“You can’t tell her. You’ll ruin everything.”
“You ruined everything.”
He changed tactics quickly. “I was going to leave her. I want to be with you. You have to believe me.”
“You just had a baby with her. That’s your idea of leaving?”
“It was complicated!”
“No. It was deceit.”
I turned and walked back inside. Angela was waiting, arms crossed.
I looked at her. “I know this is painful. But it would hurt more if you never knew. Eric and I have been seeing each other for two years. He told me he had no family, no social media—nothing. I swear.”
Angela stared at Eric. “Is that true?”
“She’s insane,” he said. “She’s making this up—”
I pulled out my phone and showed her the photos. Our text messages. His voice notes.
Angela’s face hardened. “You lied to me.”
She picked up a dish towel and threw it at him. Then another.
“We have two children! And you—you betrayed us all!”
Eric raised his hands. “Angela, please—”
“I trusted you!” she shouted. “And you made me a fool!”
“I should go,” I said quietly.
Angela turned to me, eyes wet but grateful. “Thank you for telling me. I know that wasn’t easy.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She nodded.
I walked out of that house, past the man I had loved and the woman he had broken. I got in my car, started the engine, and drove away.
My chest still ached, but inside, something new was growing—a strength that comes only when a lie finally falls apart.