When Stan left me for his ex, Ursula, it stung but we’d only dated three months. Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant with twins. Stan was thrilled, especially since Ursula couldn’t have kids. They insisted on co-parenting, but Ursula acted like I was a surrogate.

She set absurd rules no breastfeeding, shared custody from birth, and the babies would call her “Mama.” Stan stayed silent, letting her run the show. Things escalated fast: daily texts, surprise appointments, and even announcing a baby shower without inviting me. Then came the shocking demand—I give her one of my babies.

I stood my ground, kicked them out, and warned Stan: one more stunt, and I’d get full custody. When Ursula showed up at my job, screaming and destroying property, she was arrested. I filed restraining orders, packed up, and left town. This time, for good with my mom and my babies.

Now I live across the country, safe, with peace and brownies. No midnight texts, no drama, just me and my growing belly. The twins will have my name, my love, and none of that chaos. Stan walked away once I’m never letting them walk back in.