Years after the divo:rce, he started mocking her again but found her with triplets and a private jet.
Years after their divorce, Curtis returned to taunt Laura, only to discover she’d built an extraordinary life: triplets and a private jet.
The living room hummed with tension. Laura perched on the cream leather sofa, fingers tracing her untouched teacup. Curtis stood rigid. “I’ve signed everything. The lawyer will finalize it Monday,” he said coolly.
Her suitcase waited by the door, as if their twelve-year marriage was a mere interlude. Laura stared at the man who’d once been her world. “We weren’t going anywhere, Laura. No kids, no spark. I can’t wait forever.”
“I tried, Curtis,” she whispered.
“I wanted it too,” he said, but the door was already open. Outside, a red SUV idled with Carol—elegant, lipstick-bright, unburdened by their past.
Laura eyed the divorce papers, her signature beside his. Unbeknownst to her, that preserved sample would rewrite her fate.
In the antiseptic-scented doctor’s office, Dr. Evans delivered the blow: “Your chances of natural conception are extremely low, Laura. AMH levels have dropped further.”
“Nothing left?” she choked.
“We’ve exhausted options, except IVF with donor sperm—or an existing sample.”
That night, curled under a blanket, Laura confided in friend Margaret over coffee. “No chance naturally. But I want to be a mother more than anything.”
“Then do it for you,” Margaret urged. “Not revenge. For happiness.”
Emboldened, Laura booked the clinic. The nurse confirmed: Curtis’s sample was viable, legally hers. “You never wanted this,” she whispered to their dusty wedding photo, tucking it away. “But I did.”
IVF began—her dream, unchained.
Meanwhile, Curtis lounged in a hotel suite, whiskey in hand, Carol in silk. “Thinking of your ex?” she teased.
“Not anymore,” he chuckled. “I left her childless. Did her a favor.”
Doubt flickered, drowned in drink.
Months later, Curtis found success in his new life, Carol promising their own child soon.
One morning, a cream card slipped under his door: “Come see what you left behind.” Expecting Carol’s ploy, he boarded the waiting Bennett Private jet—and froze. Laura sat poised in ivory.
“Hello, Curtis.”
“Private jet? What is this?”
“Time to catch up. Easier with three little ones.”
“Three… what?”
“Triplets,” she said. “Two girls, one boy. Six years old.”
She handed a photo: beaming kids in a balloon garden. “But you couldn’t…”
“You assumed,” she corrected. “All I needed was belief in myself when you stopped.”
“Are they mine?”
“Yes. You signed the release. They’re mine in every way that matters.”
“Why show me?”
“To prove your ending was my beginning.”
The jet door opened; three children rushed in, hugging “Mom!” Laura introduced him as “an old friend.” They scampered off politely.
“I never sought revenge,” she said. “Just peace. In motherhood, in a life you couldn’t imagine.”
“They’re beautiful,” he rasped.
“Thank you. But your journey ends here. Mine’s just taking off.”
As the jet ascended with Laura and her family, Curtis realized he’d lost not just a wife, but the miracle of love’s persistence. No second chances this time.
