My husband’s lover and I were both pregnant. My mother-in-law said, “Whoever gives birth to a boy will stay.” I immediately divorced him. Seven months later, my lover’s child shocked my husband’s family…
My husband’s lover and I were both pregnant, and my mother-in-law said, “Whoever gives birth to a boy will stay.”

The day I found out I was pregnant, I thought this would be the thread that would save my marriage, which was already falling apart. But ironically, just a few weeks later, I discovered that my husband had a mistress. Worse, she was also carrying his child.

When the truth came out, my husband’s entire family not only defended me but also started arguing. During a family meeting at our ancestral home in Lucknow, my mother-in-law bluntly said,

“Whoever gives birth to a son will stay. If not… then you must figure out your own way.”

I was stunned. It turned out that for them, the value of a daughter-in-law was simply summed up in the two words “son.” There was no affection or morality left. I looked at my husband, Raghav, expecting him to object, but he simply bowed his head and remained silent.

That night, I, Ananya, stayed awake the entire night. I knew that whether the child I was carrying was a boy or a girl, I couldn’t live in that biased and cruel home. I decided to divorce. The day I signed the papers at the family court in Lucknow, I cried, but I also felt relieved—because I didn’t want my child to grow up in discrimination and selfishness. I returned empty-handed, starting anew in Kanpur. Work was hectic, my stomach was heavy, but I was still strong. Fortunately, with the love of my parents and the support of friends, I continued to overcome each day.

Meanwhile, I learned that my husband’s girlfriend, Shreya, had been brought home like a “queen.” My husband’s entire family cared for her with all their heart, waiting for the day the baby would be born. They were sure it would be a grandchild, the heir they had always awaited.

Time passed. Seven months later, I gave birth to a daughter. She was small but healthy, her eyes bright and clear. I was overjoyed holding her in my arms. I didn’t care if the baby was a boy or a girl, just that it was safe.

Then one day, I heard that Shreya had given birth too. My husband’s entire family rushed joyfully to the hospital in Delhi, as if welcoming a savior. I thought to myself, “They must be so happy now.” But one afternoon, the news broke, shocking me: the baby was a girl.

Not only that, the doctor also told me that the baby had health problems and needed special monitoring. My husband’s entire family, who had pinned all their hopes on their grandson, was now disappointed, their faces pale. They turned their backs on me, looked down on me, and now they had understood the lesson: children are not gender-different; they are blood relatives, living beings who need love.

When I heard this news, an indescribable emotion surged through my heart. It wasn’t joy at the misfortune of others, but a bitterness. I felt pity for the child because he was innocent. And I felt relieved, too, because my decision to leave home that day was the right one. A few months later, Raghav came to visit me, exhausted. He apologized, hoping I would give him a chance to see his child. I looked at him, no longer angry, just distant. I said:

You can see your child, but we will never be a family.

He remained silent, his eyes welling with tears. Perhaps, at that moment, she truly understood: the love, happiness, and peace of a home lie not in the “gender” of the child, but in the love and respect for each other.

My story didn’t end completely tragically, nor did it end completely happily. I lost a marriage, but in return, I gained freedom and a little angel to love. And I realized that being a mother is the most noble of jobs, not dependent on anyone else’s judgment.