I’m 32 and eight months pregnant by a married man named Nazir, who is ten years older than me and has a wife and teenage daughter. We met through freelance work and grew close, even though I knew he was married. He claimed his marriage was practically over, and although I had doubts, I let myself fall for him.

I had previously been told my chances of getting pregnant were low, so seeing two pink lines on the test felt unreal. When I told Nazir, he went quiet and said, “We can’t do this. I have a life. I have a daughter.” Soon after, we stopped talking.

Heartbroken but determined, I decided to keep the baby. I downsized my apartment, sold belongings, and took on more freelance work. I reminded myself this was my child, and I would raise him—with or without his father.

Five months into the pregnancy, Nazir suddenly texted to ask if it was a boy or a girl. When I told him it was a boy, he immediately called, emotional and overwhelmed.

After that, he slowly became more involved—checking in, offering support, and even attending a doctor’s appointment. Seeing the ultrasound moved him to tears, and he quietly said he wanted to be there. I didn’t give him an answer.