When Teresa discovers her husband secretly spent the IVF money on a boys’ trip, she doesn’t scream. She plans. What ensues is quiet, calculated heartbreak. In the end, it’s not just about betrayal; it’s about taking back power, one brutal truth at a time.
When you’ve been trying to get pregnant for two years, your life starts to revolve around numbers. Cycle days. Hormone levels. Bank balances.
Last year, Mark and I agreed we were going to do it. We were sitting in a restaurant, eating the fluffiest pancakes and drinking bitter coffee, and we knew it then.
A stack of pancakes in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
In vitro fertilization was our next step.
It wasn’t just a plan. It was a promise. We scaled everything back.
No vacations. No birthday splurges. I took on extra freelance work. Mark worked overtime. Every time we deposited money into the IVF fund, we clinked our mugs and said, “One step closer to the baby!”
It was a little corny, but it was a kind of mantra. A good omen. And after trying for so long, I didn’t hesitate to be superstitious this time. Everything had to be perfect. And we had to be serious.
A smiling woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I cried the morning we reached $18,000. Not because it was a lot of money, although it was . But because it was hope—well, tangible hope. The kind of hope I hadn’t allowed myself in a long time.
We were getting closer.
“I can almost see it,” I said, smiling at Mark. “Soon we’ll be parents, and every sacrifice will have been worth every tear.”
Close-up of a woman sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
Then, three weeks ago, my husband told me he had a conference out of state.
“It’s just for a week,” he said. “But it will pass very quickly. And then you can have some time to yourself.”
The morning he left, Mark stood in our room, wearing a shirt he rarely wore, and kissed me goodbye.
“We’re so close. Just a little longer, baby. We’ll soon have a mini-Mark or a mini-Teresa running around!”
A man standing in a bedroom | Source: Midjourney
But he had no idea what he had just unleashed.
A few days before Mark was due to return home, I was sitting at our dining room table with my laptop, a bowl of grapes, and a cup of raspberry tea. I was trying to book our appointment at the clinic where I opened our joint account. I wanted to be sure how much we had. I wanted to have all the answers in case the clinic had any questions.
Balance: $311.09.
I stared at the number as if it were a mistake I was trying to figure out. I refreshed the page. Three times. Same number.
A bowl of green grapes on a table | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t know what else to do but call the bank. There had to be an explanation, and I would find it.
My voice trembled as I tried to explain.
“There’s a mistake,” I said, after giving my details. “It’s a savings account for a medical procedure. We’ve been paying into it all year.”
The representative was friendly but firm.
A shocked woman sitting with her laptop | Source: Midjourney
“Let me see what I can find, ma’am,” he said. “Give me a second.”
That moment of silence seemed like an eternity.
“Madam, these withdrawals were authorized by one Mark J. Your husband?”
So, it wasn’t a mistake? Everything was planned .
A man sitting at his desk | Source: Midjourney
The next few days were a blur of cold coffee, sleepless nights, and me pretending everything was fine. I acted like nothing was wrong. I worked, cooked, and answered emails… but I felt like I was living underwater.
I folded laundry while imagining the childhood bedroom I’d envisioned. Pale green walls, white stuffed animals, a rocking chair, and a tiny bookcase filled with dog-eared copies of the same children’s books I’d loved.
I had also chosen a name. No one knew. Not even Mark. I whispered it once while brushing my teeth, just to hear it out loud. It would be perfect for a little girl or a little boy.
A child’s bedroom in green and cream colors | Source: Midjourney
And now… nothing.
Just silence. It was like all the hope I had was gone.
Instead, there was only a heavy, hollow pain in place of hope.
I didn’t confront him when he got home. Mark was tanned and relaxed, and a faint scent of coconut and betrayal clung to his skin. I watched him set his suitcase down in the middle of the living room.
A marine suitcase | Source: Midjourney
He yawned loudly and stretched out on the couch, grinning like he’d just conquered the world.
“My God, business travel is exhausting.”
I stared at him.
But instead of screaming, I smiled.
“You’ve been so stressed out with work lately, Mark,” I said. “Especially after a work conference, too. Maybe we should take a trip. Just us. Somewhere peaceful… somewhere to reset before IVF.”
A man relaxing on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
My husband’s eyes lit up.
“That sounds great, Teresa,” he said. “You’re the best!”
“I know,” I smiled. ” It does sound great. I think we need it too.”
That night, as Mark snored next to me, I lay awake watching the ceiling fan spin. I scrolled through my phone, but instead of looking at things about babies, I found myself looking at Mark’s tagged photos on social media. And there they were.
A woman using her phone in bed | Source: Midjourney
Him at the beach with his friends. While he was supposed to be “working.” There were even some of their girlfriends around, showing off their perfect bodies in their perfect bikinis.
I imagined all the things I wanted to say. All the ways I could hurt him.
And then I started planning.
A smiling man at the beach | Source: Midjourney
The mountain spa resort I’d chosen looked like something out of a glossy travel magazine. Glass walls, hot stone massages, and infinity pools that embrace the treetops.
It was expensive, but I paid for it myself, with my savings.
I watched Mark float in a pool with cucumber slices over his eyes. I watched him sip wine as if he had no guilt. I watched him eat platters of fresh fruit as if his body depended on it.
A platter of fresh fruit | Source: Midjourney
I imagined asking him all kinds of questions.
“Was that beach beer worth more than our child?”
“It must have been a real challenge finding time to tan between work meetings… huh?”
“How can you be the most selfish and inconsiderate man in the world?!”
But I held back. I waited. Deep down, I just prayed for the strength to make it through the end of the trip. Mark’s presence was starting to wear me down, and I felt completely drained of all energy.
A pensive woman | Source: Midjourney
The second morning, I woke him up before dawn.
“Let’s go for a hike,” I said. “Let’s watch the sunrise!”
He groaned, rubbed his face, and put on a hoodie.
“You’re lucky I love you, Teresa,” he grumbled.
A man wearing a gray hoodie | Source: Midjourney
We packed light. I told him to leave his phone behind.
“Let’s disconnect. Let’s just be present,” I told him. “And I don’t think there’ll be any signal anyway.”
He accepted.
The trail was steep and silent. Mist clung to the trees as if the universe itself were holding its breath. We walked for over an hour in silence, except for the crunch of gravel and Mark’s occasional grunt.
A hiking trail | Source: Midjourney
We stopped in a clearing, the view stretching wide beneath our feet like a secret the mountain had kept.
Mark dropped his bag and exhaled loudly.
“Holy shit,” he said. “This is crazy. It was worth it.”
I didn’t answer. I just stood there, staring into the misty valley.
A view from a hiking trail | Source: Midjourney
“Hey,” he said, moving closer. “Are you okay?”
“You know what’s funny?” I asked, without turning around.
“Are you dragging me here at five in the morning?” he smiled.
“No,” I replied calmly. “I always imagined we’d do this together. Not the hike, but starting our family . Naming our baby. You’d hold my hand during IVF. You whispered ‘We’ve got it, Teresa’ to me while I cried in a clinic bathroom.”
A pensive woman standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney
“Baby…” her smile faltered.
“But instead, I got a lie and a bank account with three hundred dollars in it. You got a tan and a vacation.”
“Wait!” he exclaimed.
“I saw the pictures, Mark,” I said. “Your friend’s girlfriend posted them, Jenna or something. The matching swimsuits. The beer tower. The ocean , Mark.”
Close-up of a shocked man | Source: Midjourney
He tried to laugh, but it came out thin and weak.
“Look, I… okay. It wasn’t for work. It was… just a little boys’ getaway. One last…”
“One last thing?” I asked.
“One last break before we get serious,” he moved. “Before having this baby, the schedules and the stress. I just… needed it.”
A woman upset while hiking | Source: Midjourney
I turned to him at that moment, the weight of two years pressing down on my spine.
“You needed it? So you stole our IVF funds? And IVF is a process, Mark! We don’t even know if it’s going to work, and you’re worried about scheduling and stress after the baby arrives? What baby?! “
I knew I sounded hysterical. I think part of me was.
“I didn’t steal…”
The silhouette of a sleeping baby | Source: Midjourney
“You drained it, Mark. Every penny we saved. All those months of saying no to dinners out, no vacations and massages, me working late when you promised we’d build something together. You blew it on jet skis and beer like a man-child.”
His mouth opened, then closed.
“You could have told me,” I said, more calmly now. “You could have told me you weren’t ready. But you lied. You chose yourself over our family.”
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he mumbled. “I thought I’d make it up to you. I thought it wouldn’t matter once we had the baby.”
A distraught woman on a hiking trail | Source: Midjourney
I took a step back, nodding slowly.
“With what money, Mark?”
He looked down.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
“Are you leaving me here?” his voice broke.
“I’m going down alone, Mark. I can’t stand you right now.”
“Teresa, come on. Don’t do this.”
“It wasn’t me. You did this,” I looked him in the eyes. “I’m just reacting. Anyway.”
A frustrated man | Source: Midjourney
It took me 90 minutes to get back. I checked into the spa, ordered a cappuccino, took a long shower, and then booked a massage.
I left a note at the reception for him.
“This is what betrayal looks like. I hope you enjoyed the view.”
He came back late that evening. Dirty. Silent. I watched him enter the room, a man reduced to the weight of his own choices.
A cappuccino on a table | Source: Midjourney
“I can explain,” he said.
“There’s no need. I’ll do the talking, not you,” I said, handing him a paper envelope.
Inside was the notarized cancellation of our first IVF papers, the notice of termination of my portion of the apartment lease, and a copy of my new apartment contract.
“You can choose what you want to do with the old apartment,” I told him. “But if you keep it, you’ll have to pay for it yourself. Just like you did for the trip.”
An envelope on a table | Source: Midjourney
He collapsed on the bed, his head in his hands.
“Teresa, I panicked. I didn’t know if I was ready. I thought I needed one last break before everything changed,” he said, echoing his words from the hike.
“That’s why we booked sessions at the IVF clinic, Mark. Counseling sessions. But you ditched them. All three of them . I went alone! Now that things were getting real, you decided to steal from me silently? No. I can’t stand you.”
Inside an IVF clinic | Source: Midjourney
Mark and I aren’t divorced yet. But the papers are in place.
I live in a quiet apartment across town, with plants on the windowsill and a calendar free of injections, appointments, or lies.
But there’s one slot on the calendar I’m eagerly awaiting. My first appointment with an adoption agency. An appointment that’s just for me, not for Mark.
A woman sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes Mark sends a picture of the sunset or a photo from our childhood. Once, he even sent a video of a baby laughing on a beach with his hands full of sand.
I don’t bother to answer. What’s the point?
Mark wanted a vacation, and he got one. He wanted to act like a kid? Well, he can start acting like one again.
A magnificent sunset | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
Read also: My husband drained our child’s college fund to buy a luxury car for his mistress – I called her and, to my surprise, she offered me a deal
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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