Better Than Ever

Life has a twisted sense of humor, I swear.

After five years of trying, Rodrigo left me. Just like that. No warning, no explanations, just a sentence I’ll never forget:

“I need to be a father, Carla. And clearly, it’s not going to happen with you.”

He didn’t even pack. He walked out of my life and into Melissa’s, a twenty-three-year-old co-worker with a smile that could defy gravity and wardrobe choices that defied… well… everything else.

I was devastated. My heart broke, sure, but my mind went into overdrive. I did every test imaginable. Every specialist. Every blood test, scan, and procedure. And every single doctor said the same thing:

“Everything is perfect.”

Perfect. Except, apparently, my husband had decided that perfection didn’t include me.

Six months later, I met Daniel. In a library, debating whether García Márquez was a genius or just wildly overrated.

Three months after that, Daniel was hugging the toilet at 7 a.m., pale as a ghost.

“Is it last night’s sushi?” he groaned.

“Or I’m pregnant,” I said half-joking.

It wasn’t the sushi.

When I saw the two stripes on the test, something shifted inside me. All the anxiety, all the years of self-doubt, all the heartbreak—it suddenly made sense. Rodrigo wasn’t the problem. He never had been.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked, his hand on my shoulder, worried.

I laughed like a telenovela villain. A big, victorious, “I-win” laugh.

“Better than never, my love. Better than ever.”

Months passed. My belly grew, my happiness grew, and the universe began lining up the sweetest twist of karma I could have imagined.

I was in the supermarket, standing in the dairy aisle, when I saw her: Melissa. Pregnant.
And, of course, Rodrigo was there, grinning like he’d won life’s lottery.

“Carla! What a surprise,” he said, looking me up and down. His eyes immediately dropped to my six-month belly. “Oh… I see. Well, better late than never, right?”

I took a deep breath. Daniel had told me to “be the bigger person,” but honestly? Sometimes being big is overrated.

“Yes,” I said, sweetly, letting the words hang. “The truth is unbelievable. Especially because Rodrigo always said I was the problem.”

He laughed nervously. I laughed louder.

“Well,” Melissa said, attempting a polite smile. “I guess you found someone… compatible. Rodrigo and I had no problems. I got pregnant on the first try.”

And then my mouth went rogue, like it had been waiting for this moment for years.

“How strange,” I said slowly, savoring the pause, “considering Rodrigo is infertile.”

The color drained from Melissa’s face faster than water down a drain.

“What… what did you say?”

“My ex is infertile, Meli. Five years of trying—zero pregnancies. Three months with Daniel? Boom.”

I shrugged, nonchalant. “Math doesn’t lie, dear.”

Melissa stammered. Rodrigo didn’t even blink—he just looked like he’d stepped on a landmine of his own making.

“You… you don’t know…”

“I know exactly what I know,” I said, stepping closer, letting my grin do the talking. “So congratulations on the baby. Although if Rodrigo wants a paternity test… well, that’s his choice, right?”

And just like that, they both walked away. The floor might as well have been lava. Melissa forgot her yogurt. Rodrigo forgot how to breathe. Just the faint trace of expensive perfume in the air, like an apology that would never come.

That night, Daniel found me on the couch, laughing alone.

“What happened?” he asked, worried.

“Nothing, love. Just… sometimes karma doesn’t need help. But a little nudge doesn’t hurt, either.”

“Carla… what did you do?”

“I planted a doubt. A tiny, microscopic, soul-crushing doubt.”

Daniel shook his head.

“You are terrible.”

“I am happy,” I corrected, stroking my belly. “There’s a difference.”

And in that moment, as I felt my baby kick for the first time, I realized just how perfect life could be when you stop trying to control it.

Rodrigo’s betrayal had nothing to do with me. Melissa’s illusions of superiority crumbled before my eyes. And Daniel—Daniel was the calm in my storm, the laughter in my kitchen, the father of my child before we even had a name for her.

Life has a twisted sense of humor, yes. But sometimes, just sometimes, the punchline is exactly what you deserve.

Better than ever.

Epilogue

The baby is here now. Healthy, loud, and already smarter than anyone imagined. Every kick reminds me that happiness isn’t about proving anyone wrong. It’s about choosing joy, choosing love, and sometimes… choosing a little bit of delicious, petty karma.

And yes, Rodrigo eventually texted me. Paternity tests? No response yet. Melissa? Blocked.

And me? Laughing in the kitchen, holding my daughter, knowing that life’s sense of humor is best served with a side of triumph and chocolate croissants.