I didn’t confront her.
Instead, I planned something else.
I booked a venue and told her we were throwing a gender reveal party. She loved the idea—didn’t question it at all.
That alone told me something was very wrong.
At ten weeks, you can’t reliably know the baby’s gender.
But she went along with everything.
I invited both our families. Friends. Made it look real.
And quietly, I prepared the truth.
I even went back to my doctor—just to confirm what I already knew.
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