Trevor’s office was in a sleek building in the Domain, Austin’s upscale shopping and business district. I’d been there dozens of times, and the receptionist knew me well. “Hi, Amanda!” she said when I walked in. “Are you here to see Trevor? He’s in his office, but he’s in a meeting right now. You might want to wait a few minutes.” Something about the way she said it made me pause. There was an awkwardness to her tone, and she wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. “Who’s he meeting with?” I asked casually.

The receptionist hesitated. “Um, I think it’s a private meeting. Maybe you should call him first?” Now I was suspicious. I thanked her and walked toward Trevor’s office, which was at the end of a long hallway. The door was closed, but it wasn’t locked. I opened it without knocking—and my entire world shattered in an instant.

Trevor was there, but he wasn’t in a business meeting. He was on the couch in his office, and Jessica was with him. They were kissing, his hands in her hair, her hands on his chest. They were so absorbed in each other that they didn’t even hear me open the door. I stood there for what felt like an eternity but was probably only three or four seconds, my brain refusing to process what I was seeing. Then Jessica looked up and saw me. Her face went white. “Amanda—” she started, but I didn’t let her finish.

“How long?” I asked, my voice surprisingly steady. “How long has this been going on?” Trevor stood up, trying to compose himself, but he looked guilty and caught. “Amanda, this isn’t what it looks like. We were just—” “Don’t lie to me,” I said, my voice rising now. “I’m not an idiot. How long have you been sleeping with my best friend?”

Jessica was crying now, mascara running down her face. “Amanda, I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean for this to happen. It just… it just did.” “How long?” I repeated, looking at Trevor. He had the decency to look ashamed. “Six months,” he said quietly. “It started about six months ago.”

Six months. I was three months pregnant, which meant they’d been having an affair for three months before I even conceived. They’d been betraying me while I was trying to get pregnant with Trevor’s child. While I was planning our future, he was sleeping with my best friend. “Get out,” Trevor said suddenly, and for a moment I thought he was talking to Jessica. But he was looking at me. “Amanda, get out. I need to talk to Jessica alone.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “You’re kicking me out? I’m your wife. I’m pregnant with your baby!” Trevor’s face hardened. “That’s what we need to talk about. Jessica and I… we’re in love. We have been for months. I want a divorce. And honestly, Amanda, I don’t think I want to be a father. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. “What are you saying?” Trevor took a deep breath. “I’m saying I want you to consider not having this baby. Jessica and I want to be together, and a baby would complicate things. I’ll pay for everything, of course. The procedure, recovery, whatever you need. But I think it’s the best solution for everyone.”

I stared at him, this man I’d loved and trusted, and I didn’t recognize him. “You want me to terminate my pregnancy so you can be with my best friend without complications?” I said slowly. “That’s what you’re asking me to do?” “I’m asking you to be reasonable,” Trevor said. “We’re young. You can have children later with someone else. But right now, this baby doesn’t make sense.”

I looked at Jessica, hoping to see some sign of the friend I’d known for ten years. Some indication that she was horrified by what Trevor was suggesting. Instead, she was looking at him with something like hope in her eyes. She wanted this. She wanted me to get rid of my baby so she could have my husband without guilt or complications. “I’m keeping my baby,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “And I want a divorce. You two deserve each other.”

Part 3: Alone, Pregnant, and Starting Over
I moved out of Trevor’s house that same day. I packed everything I could fit in my Honda Civic—clothes, personal items, photos—and drove to a Extended Stay America hotel near the airport that cost $65 a night. I had about $8,000 in a personal checking account that Trevor didn’t have access to—money I’d saved from birthday gifts and the occasional freelance marketing work I’d done over the years. It wasn’t much, but it was all I had.