After Divorcing My Cheating Husband, He Ended Up With Nothing Novel – Six years ago, my husband Ethan Black convinced me to undergo a tubal ligation, claiming it would allow us to live a child-free life. I sacrificed my ability to have children for him—and I never once regretted it. That was until one day, he came home with a pair of adopted twins and asked me to treat them as my own. I agreed. From that moment on, I poured every ounce of my heart and soul into those two kids, as if they were my own flesh and blood.
I changed every diaper, cooked every meal, and stayed up countless nights, watching over them through every fever. Seventeen years later, they both got into Harvard and the University of Chicago. I was bursting with pride—nearly about to explode with it. At their going-away party for college, Ethan handed me a document—a property transfer agreement. He wanted me to transfer all of our assets to the twins. Without a second thought, I agreed. Just as I reached for the pen, my mother grabbed my arm, her face filled with concern. “Maya, you don’t even know where those kids came from.
Are you really going to give them everything? At least keep something for yourself.” “Don’t worry, Mom. Everything will be fine,” I whispered, trying to reassure her. But then she broke down, kneeling in front of me, begging me not to be so naive. When she cried, my father stormed in, slapped me across the face, and screamed that I was a disgrace to the family. Despite all of it, I still signed. Ethan’s face lit up with a smug grin.
Then, without any shame, he turned around and wrapped his arm around another woman’s waist. She stepped forward, her eyes gleaming with victory, and handed me a divorce agreement. “Thank you for taking care of Ethan and the kids all these years,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “But now, it’s time for you to step aside. Our family is about to be whole again.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable, my voice steady and unwavering.
“Fine.” … Seventeen years ago, Ethan Black looked me straight in the eyes and promised that if we never had children, we’d never part ways. I believed him, heart and soul. To make sure there was no temptation down the road, I even had a tubal ligation. But the surgery went wrong. It resulted in an infection, and I had to have my uterus removed. No kids, no regrets—everything was for him.
Then one day, he came home with a pair of dark-skinned, giggling twins—one boy and one girl—wrapped in brightly colored blankets, laughing like I was their whole world. They were so adorable, probably only a few months old. “I adopted them,” Ethan said. “From a children’s shelter. They need a mother. Maya, can you take care of them?” Without even thinking, I said yes. From that moment on, I became their mother in every way that mattered.
I wiped their fevered brows in the dead of night, carefully bandaged their scraped knees, sat with them while they studied, and comforted them through nightmares. Every day, I packed their lunches, celebrated every achievement like it was a major milestone. I kissed their foreheads, said goodnight so many times that I lost count.