My boyfriend of five years proposed just to get a green card. Cheated on me with three other women while I was four months pregnant. Now I’m finally calling my ex an MMA fighter because karma doesn’t work fast enough. My name is Madison and I’m sitting in my car outside a gym at 9:00 p.m. on a Tuesday with my phone in one hand and my pride in the other.

And let me tell you, my pride is losing. The thing is, I’ve always been the girl who handles things on her own. Independent, strong, the type who doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles. But right now, with a baby bump pressing against the steering wheel and my entire life in shambles, I’m about to do something I swore I’d never do. I’m calling Tyler. Let me back up.

3 days ago, I was still living in what I thought was my fairy tale. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but whose relationship is after 5 years? Dimmitri and I had our issues, but I loved him. God, I loved him so much it physically hurts to even think about it now. We met at a coffee shop in downtown Seattle. I was a parallegal.

He was this charming guy with an accent from Eastern Europe who made me laugh until my sides hurt. He told me he came here for a better life, for opportunities, for the American dream. And like an idiot, I believed every single word. The proposal came 8 months ago. It was at Cary Park overlooking the city at sunset. He got down on one knee, pulled out this gorgeous ring, and I cried happy tears for what felt like hours.

Everyone told me congratulations. My mom was thrilled. My best friend, Kayla, threw me an engagement party. 2 months later, I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified. We weren’t married yet. We’d been planning the wedding for spring, but now everything felt rushed and scary and overwhelming. But Dimmitri held my hands and told me it was fate, that our baby was a blessing, that he couldn’t wait to be a father. More lies.

The wedding got pushed up. We did a courthouse thing with just close family. His mother flew in from Muldova, crying tears of joy. My dad walked me down the aisle in my simple white dress, and I felt like despite the chaos, everything was falling into place. That was 4 months ago. 3 days ago, I was cleaning our apartment because nesting instincts are real.

And apparently, I needed to reorganize the entire closet at 7:00 a.m. That’s when I found Dimmitri’s old phone. The one he said d!ed and he was keeping for parts or whatever. It wasn’t dead. I turned it on. I don’t even know why. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was the universe finally deciding to stop screwing with me.

The battery was at 15% and before I could even think about what I was doing. I opened his messages. There were three different conversations, three different women, Amber, Jessica, Britney. And these weren’t just friendly conversations. These were full-blown relationships, photos, videos, voice messages where he used the same pet names he used with me, the same promises, the same lies.

Amber thought she was his girlfriend. They’d been seeing each other for 2 years. 2 years, which meant he was cheating on me with her before he even proposed. Jessica was someone he met at his gym. She had no idea I existed. They’d been together for over a year. Britney was the newest, only 6 months. But here’s the thing that made my blood freeze.

She was also pregnant, 5 months along. I sat on our bedroom floor holding this phone, feeling my baby move inside me and something in my brain just shortcircuited. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t scream. I just sat there reading message after message, watching my entire life dissolve like sugar in hot water. Then I found the emails.

Dmitri had been planning this from the start. There were messages to his cousin back home, talking about how he needed to secure his status, how he’d found the perfect target. Those were his actual words, me. I was the target. He called me naive, easy to manipulate. He literally wrote, “She will do anything for love.” With a laughing emoji.

The proposal timed perfectly to coincide with his visa expiring. The pregnancy, he wasn’t even sure if he was going to stay after he got his green card. There were conversations about going back to Muldova once he had permanent residency or maybe moving to California where his cousin had a construction business.

I was never part of his future. I was just a stepping stone. I don’t remember standing up. I don’t remember walking to the bathroom. But suddenly, I was staring at myself in the mirror, 4 months pregnant, married to a stranger, and completely alone. That’s when I heard the front door open. Dmitri walked in, gym bag over his shoulder, smiling like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t just destroyed everything.

Maddie, baby, why are you home? I thought you had that deposition at 9:00. I walked out of the bathroom holding his phone. The smile fell off his face so fast it would have been funny if I wasn’t actively dying inside. Madison, wait. I can explain. Explain what? That you’re cheating on me with three different women? That you married me for a green card? That there’s another pregnant woman out there who thinks you’re her boyfriend? He tried to approach me, hands up, like I was some wild animal.

It’s not what you think. Those women, they don’t mean anything. You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my child. Britney is also carrying your child, Dimmitri. Britney is pregnant. That shut him up real quick. How long have you known? He finally asked. Not I’m sorry. Not I can explain. Just how long have you known? Does it matter, Madison? Please, we can work through this. I love you.

I love our baby. Those other women, they were mistakes. I’ll end it. I’ll end all of it. Just please. I laughed. Actually laughed. It came out bitter and sharp and nothing like how I usually sound. You love me. You called me a target. You called me naive and easy to manipulate. You planned this entire relationship like it was some kind of business transaction. His face went pale.

He hadn’t expected me to find those messages. Get out, Madison. Get out. He left. Just grabbed his gym bag and walked out like it was nothing, like he wasn’t leaving his pregnant wife. Like 5 years meant absolutely zero to him. I called Kayla. She came over immediately with wine for her and ice cream for me. She held me while I finally broke down and cried.

We stayed up all night going through everything and that’s when she said something that changed everything. You need to call Tyler. Tyler, my ex from 6 years ago, the one I dated for almost 3 years before we broke up because we wanted different things. He wanted to focus on his fighting career. I wanted stability. We parted as friends, but we hadn’t really talked in years.

Why would I call Tyler? I asked, even though somewhere deep down I already knew the answer because he’s always been protective of you. Remember that guy at the bar who wouldn’t leave you alone? Tyler was ready to throw hands. And Dmitri deserves someone throwing hands at him. Kayla, I can’t ask Tyler to fight my battles. You’re not asking. I’m suggesting.

Besides, you know he’d want to know about this. He always cared about you, Motti. She was right. Tyler had always been that person. Even after we broke up, even when we stopped talking regularly, I knew if I really needed him, he’d be there. But was I really considering this? Was I actually thinking about calling my MMA fighter ex-boyfriend to handle my cheating con artist husband? I slept on it. Well, I didn’t sleep.

I laid in bed in Kayla’s guest room, feeling my baby kick, thinking about how I was supposed to protect this child, how I was supposed to be strong for both of us. The next morning, I filed for an anulment, emergency anulment based on fraud. My lawyer, thank God I’m a parillegal and no good lawyers, said it was a strong case.

The messages, the emails, the proof of his intentions. He was confident, but I still felt empty. Dimmitri had taken so much from me, my trust, my peace, my faith in love, and he was just going to walk away with maybe a slap on the wrist from immigration. That’s when I decided to call Tyler. Which brings me to now. Sitting in my car outside his gym.

I’ve been holding my phone for 20 minutes, cursor hovering over his number, trying to figure out what I’m even going to say. Hey, remember me? Your ex from 6 years ago? Well, I got married, got pregnant, found out my husband is a fraud who’s been cheating on me with multiple women, and I was wondering if you could maybe scare him a little.

Yeah, that sounds totally reasonable. I’m about to give up and drive away. When someone taps on my window, I nearly jump out of my skin, dropping my phone. When I look up, Tyler is standing there in gym shorts and a tank top covered in sweat, looking at me with concern. He motions for me to roll down the window.

Madison, what are you doing here? I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. Suddenly, seeing him after all these years, looking exactly the same, but somehow more mature, more solid. It all hits me at once, and I start crying. Not pretty crying, full-on ugly. Can’t catch my breath crying. Tyler immediately opens my car door.

Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is someone? He stops when he sees my belly. His eyes go wide. You’re pregnant. I nod, still crying. probably looking absolutely insane. Okay, you need to come inside. Come on, can you walk? I let him help me out of the car. His hand is warm and steady on my arm, and it’s the first time in days I’ve felt like maybe I’m not completely falling apart.

He takes me into the gym, past curious onlookers, into a small office in the back. He grabs a bottle of water from a mini fridge and hands it to me, then sits down across from me, waiting patiently while I try to compose myself. I’m sorry. I finally manage. I shouldn’t have come here. This is crazy. I’m crazy. You’re not crazy.

Madison, talk to me. what’s going on? So, I tell him everything, the whole story. Dimmitri, the proposal, the green card scheme, the other women, the other pregnancy, all of it. Tyler’s face gets darker with every word, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter. When I finish, there’s silence. Long, heavy silence.

Then Tyler stands up and starts pacing. Where is he, Tyler? Where is he, Madison? I don’t know. He left. He’s been staying god knows where. Give me his number. What? No, Tyler. I didn’t come here for you two. Why did you come here then? Good question. Why did I come here? I don’t know. I admit I just I needed to see someone who I know actually cared about me. Someone who wouldn’t lie to me.

I needed to feel less alone. Tyler stops pacing and looks at me. Really looks at me and I remember why I fell for him in the first place. Those eyes that see everything. That presence that makes you feel safe. You’re not alone. He says quietly. You’ve never been alone. I would have been there if you called anytime.

You know that we haven’t talked in years. Doesn’t matter. You think I ever stopped caring about you? We might not have worked out, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to get hurt. Something in my chest cracks a little. A good crack. Like ice thawing. What do you need me to do? Tyler asks. I don’t know. I didn’t think this through.

Do you want me to talk to him? I almost laugh. Talk to him. Tyler, you’re an MMA fighter. I don’t think talking is what you do. I can be very persuasive with my words. I’m not asking you to hurt him. I’m not offering to hurt him. I’m offering to have a conversation, a very clear, very direct conversation about respecting you and taking responsibility for his actions. He won’t listen.

He’ll listen to me. There’s something in his voice that makes me believe him. Tyler was never a bully. Never used his skills to intimidate people. But when he wanted to make a point, he made it. I need to find him first. I say he could be at any of these women’s places. Give me his number. I’ll find him. I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t.

This could go so wrong in so many ways. But I’m tired. I’m pregnant. I’m hurt. And maybe I want Dmitri to feel just a fraction of the fear and uncertainty he’s put me through. I give Tyler the number. He makes a call right there. Puts it on speaker. Dmitri answers on the third ring. Hello, Dmitri. This is Tyler. I’m a friend of Madison’s. We need to talk.

There’s a pause. Who? Madison? Your wife? The woman you’ve been lying to for 5 years. Ring any bells? I don’t know who you are, but this is between me and my wife. Your wife who’s four months pregnant. Your wife who you married to get a green card. Your wife who you’ve been cheating on with three different women. That wife. Another pause.

Longer this time. What do you want? I want to meet face to face. Manto man. I don’t think that wasn’t a request. Tomorrow 2 p.m. There’s a park on Broadway in Pine. You know it. I’m not. You’ll be there because if you’re not, I’ll find you anyway. And you won’t like how that conversation goes. Tomo

rrow 2 p.m. Don’t be late. Tyler hangs up. I’m staring at him with my mouth open. You just threatened him. I issued an invitation. An aggressive invitation. He’ll show up. How do you know? Because guys like him, they’re cowards. They pray on people they think are weaker than them. But the second someone stands up to them, they fold. Trust me, he’ll be there.

Tyler was right. The next day at 1:45 p.m., I’m sitting in my car across from the park watching. Tyler told me to stay back. Let him handle it. But there’s no way I’m missing this. At exactly 2 p.m., Dmitri shows up. He looks nervous, looking around like he’s expecting an ambush. Tyler walks up a minute later. He’s not in gym clothes this time.

Jeans, a regular t-shirt, but somehow he looks even more intimidating like this. Calm, controlled, dangerous in a way that has nothing to do with muscles. I can’t hear what they’re saying from my car, but I can see it. Tyler talking, measured and calm. Dmitri trying to argue, getting more animated. Tyler stepping closer. Dmitri backing up.

Then Tyler says something that makes Dimmitri go completely still. Whatever it is, it’s effective. Dmitri nods rapidly, hands up in surrender. The conversation lasts maybe 10 minutes. Then Tyler walks away, leaving Dmitri standing there looking like he’s just been through a tornado. My phone rings. Tyler, it’s done.

What did you say to him? Meet me at that coffee shop we used to go to. I’ll tell you everything. 20 minutes later, we’re sitting in the same coffee shop where I met Dimmitri all those years ago. The irony isn’t lost on me. Tyler orders for both of us. He remembers I like vanilla lattes and sits down across from me. He’s going to sign whatever papers you need.

Tyler starts anulment, giving up parental rights, whatever your lawyer draws up. No contest. How did you I told him that immigration fraud is a federal offense that I have friends in CBP who would be very interested in his case. That’s not entirely true. I have one buddy who works customs, but still he doesn’t know that.

Tyler, I also told him that if he ever contacts you again for any reason, I’ll personally make sure his life becomes very complicated and I might have mentioned that I know where his cousin’s construction business is and it would be a shame if the labor department decided to do an inspection. You threatened him. I provided information about potential consequences of his actions. Same thing.

Is it working, though? I can’t help but smile a little. Yeah, it’s working. We sit in silence for a moment, drinking our coffee. It feels surreal. A week ago, I was planning nursery colors with my husband. Now, I’m sitting with my ex-boyfriend who just scared said husband into compliance. Can I ask you something? Tyler says, “Sure.

Why didn’t you call me sooner, like before you married him, before all of this? We hadn’t talked in years. It felt weird to just call out of the blue. We broke up because of timing, Madison, not because we stopped caring about each other. You could have called me anytime for anything. I know. I just I thought I had everything figured out.

I thought Dimmitri was my future. He was never good enough for you. You don’t even know him. I know he hurt you. That’s all I need to know. My eyes start getting wet again. Stupid pregnancy hormones. What are you going to do now? Tyler asks gently. I don’t know. File the enolment papers. Have this baby. Figure out how to be a single mom.

The usual. You don’t have to do it alone, Tyler. I’m not saying what you think I’m saying. I’m not trying to slide into some romantic situation here. I’m saying you have people who care about you. me, Kayla, your family. You don’t have to do this by yourself. Why are you being so nice to me? Because you deserve nice, Madison. You always did. That does it.

I start crying again right there in the coffee shop. Tyler reaches across the table and takes my hand. And it’s not romantic. It’s just kind. Thank you. I managed to say through tears for everything, for showing uh for helping me, for reminding me that not all men are garbage humans. Anytime. Seriously, you need something, you call me.

We finish our coffee. Tyler walks me to my car. Before I get in, he hugs me. A real hug. The kind that makes you feel like maybe everything’s going to be okay. You’re going to be a great mom, he says. That kid is lucky to have you. I drive home feeling lighter than I have in days. Not happy, exactly.

Not healed, but lighter. The next few weeks are chaos. Lawyers, paperwork. Dmitri signs everything without a fight, just like Tyler said he would. My lawyer is shocked at how smoothly it’s going. I move out of the apartment I shared with Dmitri into a smaller place. One bedroom. It’s all I can afford, but it’s mine.

No lies, no betrayal, just me and my growing belly and a future I’m building from scratch. Kayla helps me paint the nursery, pale yellow, neutral, calm. My mom throws me a baby shower. It’s small, just family and close friends. Tyler shows up with a gift, one of those fancy baby monitors that tracks everything. He stays for an hour, makes my mom laugh, and leaves before things get awkward.

He’s a good one, my mom says after he’s gone. You should have held on to him. Different time, mom. Different people, maybe. But good men don’t change. I think about that a lot over the next few weeks. Then 2 months before my due date, something happens that I didn’t expect. I’m at the grocery store, very pregnant and very tired, trying to decide between two different brands of pickles. Don’t judge.

Pregnancy cravings are real when I hear a familiar voice. Madison. I turn around and there’s Britney, the other pregnant woman, the one carrying Dimmitri’s baby. She’s about 7 months along now, belly even bigger than mine. We stare at each other. Two women, both pregnant, both betrayed by the same man.

I’m guessing you know who I am, she finally says. Yeah, I know. Can we talk, please? We end up sitting in the Starbucks inside the grocery store. Both of us awkwardly maneuvering our bellies into the chairs. I didn’t know about you, Britney starts. Not until recently. Dmitri told me, “God, he told me so many lies.

Join the club. I’m so sorry for everything. I feel like such an idiot. You’re not an idiot. He’s a professional liar. We were both just targets.” She looks at me with tears in her eyes. What are you going to do about the baby? Raise them. Love them. Be the parent Dimmitri could never tell you. Same. I’m keeping her.

A girl? I’m having a girl. Boy, I’m having a boy. We laugh. Bitter. sad laughs, but laughs nonetheless. Did you know about the other two? Britney asks. Amber and Jessica, I found messages to all three of you. None of you knew about each other. He’s a piece of work. That’s putting it mildly. We talk for almost an hour, trading stories, comparing lies.

It’s therapeutic in a weird way. Knowing I’m not alone in this, that it wasn’t something wrong with me. It was all him. He tried to contact me last week, Britney says. Wanted to work things out. Can you believe that? My bl00d runs cold. He contacted you after he signed the papers. Yeah. showed up at my apartment, started giving me this speech about responsibility and family and how he’s changed.

What did you do? I called the cops, got a restraining order. I’m not playing games with him. Smart woman. He didn’t try to contact you. She asks, “No, but I had someone make it very clear that wouldn’t be a good idea.” The MMA fighter. I stare at her. How did you Dmitri mentioned it? Said some psycho threatened him.

I figured it was someone you knew. He’s not a psycho. He’s a good friend who was looking out for me. Good. You deserve people like that. We exchange numbers before we leave. Agree to keep in touch. It’s strange, but I feel like I’ve made an unexpected friend out of this mess. That night, I’m lying in bed when my phone rings.

Unknown number. I almost don’t answer, but something makes me pick up. Hello, Madison. A woman’s voice. Unfamiliar. Yes, this is Amber. Amber Richardson. I I think we need to talk. Oh, God. Another one. Apparently, word traveled, Britney told Jessica. Jessica told Amber. And now all three of them wanted to meet, which is how.

One week later, I find myself sitting in a private room at a restaurant with three other women, all of us victims of the same con artist. Amber is a veterinarian, tall, blonde, confident. She found out about Dimmitri’s lies when one of his friends accidentally mentioned his wife at a party. She confronted him, he gaslit her, and she dumped him.

Jessica is a yoga instructor, quiet, spiritual type. She discovered the truth when she saw Dimmitri with Britney at a mall, followed them, watched him kiss her. Her world shattered. We’re like some bizarre support group, united by betrayal and bad judgment. So, what do we do? Jessica asks.

Do we report him to immigration? Already done, I say. My lawyer filed everything. He’s under investigation. Good, Amber says sharply. He deserves whatever is coming to him. What about us? Britney asks, hand on her belly. What do we do now? We move on, I say. We live our lives. We raise our babies. I look at Britney, who nods. And we don’t let him take anything else from us.

He’s already stolen enough. I’ll drink to that, Amber says, raising her water glass. We all clink glasses. Water for the pregnant ones. Wine for Amber and Jessica. A toast to survival. To moving forward, to being stronger than the man who tried to break us. I leave that dinner feeling something I haven’t felt in months.

Hopeful, but life, as I’m learning, has a twisted sense of timing. 3 days later, I go into early labor. I’m only 34 weeks. The baby’s not supposed to come for another 6 weeks. But apparently, my son has other plans. Kayla drives me to the hospital, holding my hand while I breathe through contractions that feel like they’re splitting me in half. Call Tyler.

I gasp between contractions. What? Call Tyler, please. She does. He shows up an hour later, right as I’m being wheeled into delivery. He looks terrified. I don’t know why I called you, I say, tears streaming down my face. I just I didn’t want to do this alone. You’re not alone, he says, taking my hand.

I’m right here, and he is. He stays with me through the whole thing. 12 hours of labor, every painful contraction, every moment of fear and uncertainty. When my son is born, tiny but healthy. Tyler is the second person to hold him after me. He’s perfect, Tyler whispers. Looking at this tiny human with such tenderness, it makes my heart hurt.

What are you going to name him? Owen. Owen Matthew. Strong name. Good name. Owen spends two weeks in the NICU. Premature babies need monitoring, they tell me. But he’s a fighter. Strong lungs, good weight gain. Tyler visits every day, brings me coffee, sits with me during the lonely 2 a.m. feeding sessions, never complains, never asks for anything in return.

You don’t have to do this, I tell him one night. You don’t owe me anything. I’m not doing it because I owe you. I’m doing it because I want to. Why? Because watching you become a mom is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And that kid deserves to be surrounded by people who love him. Even if I’m just the random MMA guy who helped his mom out one time. You’re not random.

No, no, you’re you’re important to both of us. Something shifts in his expression. Madison, don’t. Not now. I can’t handle complicated right now. Can we just Can we just be what we are right now? Whatever that is. Okay. Yeah, we can do that. Owen comes home on a Thursday. I carry him into our small apartment. This tiny person who’s now my entire world, and I feel terror and joy in equal measure.

Tyler helps me set up, shows me how to work the baby monitor he bought. Makes sure I have everything I need. I should go, he says after everything’s done. Let you guys settle in. Stay, please, just for a little while. He stays. We order pizza, sit on my couch, watch Owen sleep in his bassinet. It’s quiet, peaceful, normal in a way nothing has been.

For months, I need to tell you something, Tyler says suddenly. Okay. When we broke up 6 years ago, I told you it was because I needed to focus on fighting. And that was true, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Tyler, let me finish. Please. I broke up with you because I was scared. Scared of how much I loved you. Scared of screwing it up. Scared of not being enough for you.

My heart is pounding. You were enough. I didn’t think so. You wanted this whole life, marriage, kids, stability, and I was just a fighter trying to make a name for myself. I thought you deserved better. So, you decided for me. Yeah, I did. And I’ve regretted it every day since. Tyler, I’m not trying to make this about me.

I know you just went through hell. I know you have a baby now. I know your life is complicated, but I need you to know that when I showed up for you, it wasn’t just because we used to date. It’s because I never stopped loving you. The room is so quiet. I can hear my own heartbeat. I can’t. I start. I know. I’m not asking for anything. I just needed you to know.

That’s all. Tyler, I’m a mess. I’m a single mom with trust issues and an ex-husband who might get deported and a life that’s held together with duct tape and determination. I know you could have anyone. Why would you want this? Because it’s you. Because when I look at you, I see the same person I fell in love with 6 years ago.

Stronger now, tougher, but still you. And because when I look at that kid, he points to Owen. I don’t see someone else’s mistake. I see a little boy who’s going to grow up with the best mom in the world. I’m crying again. always crying these days. I’m not asking you to make any decisions, Tyler continues. I’m not asking you to feel the same way.

I just wanted to be honest. After everything you’ve been through with lies and manipulation, you deserve honesty. I don’t know what I feel. I admit everything is so mixed up right now. That’s okay. Take your time. Figure out your life. Focus on Owen. I’ll be here as a friend if that’s all you need. But I’ll be here. He leaves after that.

And I sit there in the dark with my sleeping baby trying to process everything. The next few months are a blur. Sleepless nights, endless diaper changes, learning to be a mom. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It’s also the best. Tyler becomes a constant presence. Not pushy, not demanding, just there.

He comes over twice a week to give me a break, holds Owen while I shower, brings groceries, fixes things that break in my apartment. He never brings up what he said that night. Never pressures me. Never makes me feel guilty. Dimmitri’s immigration case goes to court. They find him guilty of fraud. His green card is revoked.

He’s ordered to leave the country within 30 days. I feel nothing when I hear the news. Not satisfaction, not relief, just nothing. He’s already dead to me. Britney has her baby girl two weeks after the verdict. Sophia, beautiful, healthy. She sends me pictures. We text regularly now. An unlikely friendship born from shared trauma. Amber starts dating someone new.

A good guy, she tells me. Honest, kind, everything Dimmitri wasn’t. Jessica moves to California to live with her sister. Fresh start, she says. New chapter. We all move on, each in our own way. Owen turns 6 months old. He’s sitting up now, smiling, laughing at stupid things. He has my eyes but darker hair. I try not to see Dimmitri in him.

Mostly I succeed. It’s Owen’s half birthday because apparently that’s a thing now. When Tyler comes over with a cupcake and a serious expression. We need to talk, he says. My stomach drops. That sounds ominous. It’s not. I just I’ve been thinking about about us, about this, about what we’ve been doing for the past 6 months. Tyler, I’m moving.

Got offered a coaching position at a gym in Portland. Better money, better opportunities. The floor drops out from under me. Oh, I wanted to tell you before I signed anything because I need to know. Is there any chance any at all for us? I look at him. Really? Look at him. This man who showed up when I needed him most.

Who helped me through the darkest time of my life? Who holds my son like he’s precious? Who never asked for anything in return? I’m scared. I admit. I know. What if it doesn’t work? What if we try and it falls apart and I lose you completely? What if it does work? What if this is our second chance and we don’t take it? I have a baby. That’s a lot to take on.

I know Owen’s not mine. I would never try to replace his father, even though his father is a worthless piece of garbage. But I could be there if you let me. I could be the guy who shows up, who’s present, who loves both of you. My heart is racing. You already do all those things. As your friend, I want to do them as more.

Tyler, I’m not asking you to decide right now. I’m just asking you to think about it. Really think about it before I sign those papers and move two states away. He leaves me with that, a choice, a possibility, a terrifying, beautiful what if. I spend the next week in agony, making lists, talking to Kayla, calling my mom. Everyone tells me the same thing.

Follow my heart. The problem is my heart is terrified, but it’s also hopeful. 7 days later, I call Tyler. Don’t sign the papers. What? Don’t sign them. Don’t move to Portland. Madison, I’m not ready for a relationship. I’m still healing, still figuring things out, but I don’t want you to leave. I want you here. I want you in our lives.

And maybe eventually when I’m less of a disaster, we can try. Really try. There’s silence on the other end. Then I can work with eventually. Yeah. Yeah. I’ve waited 6 years. I can wait a little longer. We take it slow. Painfully slow. dates here and there, always with Owen, building a foundation based on honesty and patience instead of passion and impulse.

It’s not a fairy tale. It’s messy and complicated, and sometimes I have panic attacks about trusting someone again. But Tyler is patient, understanding, present. 6 months later, on Owen’s first birthday, Tyler asks me something. Can I tell you a secret? Sure. That day, you showed up at my gym crying in your car. I knew something was wrong before I even saw you.

I was watching you through the window for 10 minutes, wondering if I should go out there. Why didn’t you? I didn’t know if you’d want to see me. We hadn’t talked in so long, but then I thought, screw it. If she needs help, I’m helping. Even if she tells me to get lost, I’m glad you came out. Me, too, because I got to meet this little guy.

He picks up Owen, who giggles and grabs Tyler’s face. And I got a second chance with you. We’re not officially together, I remind him. Not yet, but we will be. I’m patient. How do you know? Because I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. And it’s the same way I look at you. He’s right.

Of course, he’s right. Another month passes. Then one night after Owen is asleep and Tyler is about to leave like he always does, I grab his hand. Stay, Madison. Not like that. Just stay. Sleep on the couch. Be here in the morning. Let’s see what it feels like. You meet Owen like a family. He stays and it feels right. It feels like home.

We don’t rush into anything. No big declarations, no dramatic proposals, just slow, steady building of something real. Owen starts calling Tyler tie tie at 18 months. My heart breaks and heals at the same time. Two years after that horrible day when I found Demetri’s phone, Tyler officially moves in. We make it formal. Us, a family.

Three years after that, he proposes for real this time. No hidden agendas, no green card schemes, just love. We get married at a small ceremony with just close friends and family. Owen is our ring bearer at age five. He takes his job very seriously, walking down the aisle with the rings tied to a pillow, concentrating so hard he doesn’t smile until everyone claps.

Britney comes to the wedding, brings Sophia. The girls are in kindergarten together now. Weird twist of fate, but they’re best friends. You did good, Britney tells me at the reception. Tyler’s one of the good ones. Yeah, he really is. Think Dimmitri knows? Don’t know. Don’t care. He’s not part of this story anymore, and he’s not.

I heard through the grapevine that he went back to Muldova. Last I heard, he was trying to scam his way into some other country. Not my problem anymore. My life isn’t perfect. Tyler and I argue about stupid things like whose turn it is to do dishes. Owen is a handful. All energy and questions and chaos. Money is sometimes tight, but it’s real.

It’s honest. It’s mine. And when I tuck Owen into bed at night and he tells me he loves me in tie- tie, when Tyler wraps his arms around me and I feel safe for the first time in years, I realize something. Karma might not work fast, but eventually if you’re patient and brave and willing to rebuild, you get exactly what you deserve.

And I deserve this. All of it. The happy ending I almost gave up on. The family I built from the ashes of betrayal. The love I didn’t think I’d find again. Sometimes the best revenge isn’t calling your MMA fighter ex to scare your cheating husband. Sometimes the best revenge is just living well, being happy, building something beautiful out of the wreckage.