My Husband Left Me When I Was 8 Months Pregnant For My Best Friend Of 20 Years. He Just Crawled Back After Finding Out Her Baby Isn’t Even His. Should I Let My Mom Throw Another Bucket Of Water On Him?

Building From the Ashes

When I was discharged, my parents took me home. My mother carried the baby in her arms, my father carried the bags, and I walked slowly. I still hadn’t fully recovered. The house that once felt empty was now different. The crib, the bottle sterilizer, the stacks of diapers. It was no longer the house that James had abandoned; it was Lucas’s and my home.

“Mom, can you stay with me for a few days?”

“Of course. I’ll stay here with you until you recover. I’ll make you broth, do the laundry, and take care of Lucas so you can rest.”

Thanks to my mother, I was able to get through the first few days, but when she left, the real struggle began. The baby waking up all night, feedings every two or three hours, endless diaper changes. I got no sleep.

At 4 in the morning, pacing the living room with a crying baby in my arms, tears would escape. I felt exhausted. My eyes were bloodshot. I hadn’t washed my hair in days and barely ate. I didn’t even dare to look at myself in the mirror.

“Can I raise this child on my own? It’s too hard,” I thought. In those moments, I would look at Lucas. The baby, exhausted from crying, would fall asleep in my arms, oblivious to everything.

Seeing his peaceful face gave me new strength. Yes, I can do this. For this child, I am capable of anything. When Lucas ate well and slept soundly, a smile would appear on my face. For the future of this child, I felt I could handle anything.

A month after giving birth, my mother came to the house. While she was making me some broth, she asked cautiously, “Emily, what are you planning to do now? Have you thought about going back to work?”,

I looked at Lucas and answered, “Yes, Mom. I want to open a coffee shop again.”

“I have the experience from when I was a manager.”

“A coffee shop all by yourself? And what will you do with Lucas?”

“I’ll take him to daycare. I want to have my own business, even if it’s small.”

My mother looked at me with concern. “It will be very tough. Juggling raising a child with a business is not easy. I’m very worried.”

“I know Mom, but I want to try. I want to be a mother Lucas can be proud of. I want to live with dignity without depending on anyone. Besides, I don’t know how long I’ll receive child support.”

My mother looked at me in silence for a while, then she took my hand tightly. Her hand was warm.

“Do what you want to do, my daughter. As it happens, the retail space on the ground floor of your father’s building is becoming available next month. You can start your coffee shop there. Your mother and I will always be by your side. Don’t worry about a thing,” my father said.

Faced with my parents’ unconditional love, I couldn’t hold back the tears. “Thank you, Mom. I love you both.”

That night, after putting Lucas to bed, I took out a notebook. I started writing the business plan for the coffee shop: the necessary budget, the menu design, the concept for the decor. I wrote it all down.

I remembered everything I had learned working at the franchise: selecting coffee beans, espresso extraction, latte art, inventory management, customer service, closing the register. The future which had once seemed so dark was beginning to take shape. There was still a long way to go, but at least I could see a direction.

The moon was shining outside. It was a full moon. Lucas murmured something in his sleep. I sat by his crib and gently stroked his cheek. His skin was soft and smooth.

“Lucas, Mommy is going to work very hard. We are going to be very happy, the two of us together. It’s okay that daddy isn’t here; mommy will play his part too.”

I thought I saw Lucas smile in his sleep. He was probably having a nice dream. For the first time since the divorce, I felt excited about the future. I was scared, but I also felt a great sense of excitement. A new beginning was waiting for me,.

Opening Day

The day of the official grand opening of Emily’s Coffee Shop finally arrived. I woke up at 5 in the morning. I was so nervous I couldn’t go back to sleep. I got up and looked out the window. The sky was still dark, but my heart was pounding.

At 7, I dropped Lucas off with my mother and headed to the shop. As I opened the door, I saw the clean and tidy interior I had left the day before. I had placed a small potted plant on each table, and on the counter, I had displayed the pastries I had baked that very morning.

I warmed up the espresso machine and ground the coffee beans. A delicious aroma of coffee filled the space. At 9, my parents arrived with a bouquet of flowers. My father was holding a camera.

“Emily, let’s take a picture in front of the sign for the memory.”

I straightened my apron and stood under the sign. My parents stood on either side of me. My father took a picture with his phone. In the picture, you could see the tension on my face, but I was still smiling,.

“Our daughter, finally a business owner,” my mother said, patting me on the shoulder. I felt my eyes well up, but I held it together. I couldn’t cry today. Was a new beginning.

At 10:00 sharp, I opened the doors wide. When the first customer walked in, I gave a welcoming nod.

“Welcome,” my voice trembled.

The first customer was the owner of the real estate office upstairs. “Oh, today is the grand opening. I’ll have an Americano.”

With trembling hands, I prepared his coffee. I put the ground coffee in the portafilter, tamped it, and pressed the extraction button. The espresso dripped slowly. I added hot water and served him the Americano.

“Enjoy.”

The real estate owner took a sip and nodded. “Not bad. I’ll be back often.”

With those simple words, I felt something grow inside me. At lunchtime, more customers started to arrive. A few nurses from the hospital upstairs came down, and also some teachers from a nearby academy. I was so busy taking orders and making coffee that before I knew it, it was already past 1:00 p.m.,.

Just then, the door opened and a man walked in. He was wearing a white coat. He seemed to be a doctor from the hospital upstairs. He was a man in his late 30s, tall and with a neat appearance.

“An iced Americano, please.” His voice was deep and calm.

I took his order and prepared the coffee. The man took the coffee and left without another word. What a serious customer, I thought. That afternoon when I closed the shop, I counted the cash register. For the first day, it hadn’t been bad: 23 coffees and five slices of cake.

It wasn’t a spectacular number, but a good start is half the battle. The next day and the day after, the doctor came down again at lunchtime. Always the same order: an iced Americano. And he always left without saying anything.

I didn’t know his name or his specialty. To me, he was just a somewhat stoic regular customer.

Echoes of the Past

I had been open for a month when I received a call from Liz, a friend from high school.

“Emily, I’m in the area for work and I heard you opened a coffee shop. Can I stop by?”,

I hadn’t seen her in a long time. Liz was also friends with Sarah. Honestly, I hesitated a little. I knew the topic of Sarah would come up, but I couldn’t avoid it.

“Of course, come on over.”

As soon as Liz entered the shop, she looked around in admiration. “It’s beautiful. Did you decorate it yourself?”

“Yes, with my parents’ help.”

I made two lattes and we sat at a table. Liz took a sip and gave a thumbs up. “This is amazing. You can tell you worked at a franchise. You have a real talent.”

After a bit of chatting, Liz cautiously brought up the subject. “Hey Emily, have you heard about James and Sarah?”

My heart skipped a beat. I was expecting it, but I still got nervous. “No, what’s going on?”

“They’re a mess. It’s chaos. It turns out James lost all the money in the stock market and it was discovered that Sarah was living by racking up credit and loans. All the designer bags and luxury hotels were paid for with debt.”

I took a silent sip of my coffee.

Liz continued, “So now they spend all day fighting about money. James’ salary is being garnished and they say he’s asking everyone for money.”

It was something I had imagined. I knew Sarah lived beyond her means. But still, hearing it, I felt a strange sensation. More than satisfaction, it was a feeling of emptiness.

“And to top it off, James’s mother’s house was eventually foreclosed on.”

My ex-mother-in-law’s house foreclosed. I set my cup down on the table. I remembered her face the last time I saw her. She had aged so much. Now she was homeless.

“It’s a good thing you got away from him,” Liz said, taking my hand. “If you had stayed with that man, he would have dragged you down with him.”

I forced a smile. After Liz left, I had dinner at my parents’ house. I told them what she had said, and my mother clicked her tongue.

“You see, in the end everyone reaps what they sow.”

“Mom,” I interrupted, putting down my fork. “Please don’t speak ill of her. I don’t want Lucas to see me as a mother who criticizes his grandmother.”,

My mother was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right honey, you’ve matured a lot.”

On the way home, I thought, whatever happens to my ex-husband or to Sarah, it’s not my business anymore. I don’t have time to rejoice in others’ misfortunes, nor do I want to live like that. I have to follow my own path.

As I entered the second month, the coffee shop began to establish itself. Someone had posted a review on a neighborhood mom’s forum saying it was an ideal coffee shop to visit with children. After that, young mothers with their strollers started coming. Since I was also a mother, I understood their needs.

I created a spacious area to park strollers and set up a changing station in the bathroom. I also made high chairs available. As customers felt comfortable and stayed longer, word of mouth began to work. I started to have regulars: a man who stopped by every morning before work, a grandmother who came in the afternoons to read, a young couple who visited on weekends.

My small shop was gradually filling with the warmth of people. And the serious doctor continued to come down every day at lunchtime. An iced Americano, always the same order. I later found out his name was Dr. Evans, and he was the director of the internal medicine clinic upstairs.