When Nikki agrees to co-parent with her ex, she never expects to be treated like a surrogate by his new partner.
But as the boundaries blur and the demands escalate, Nikki realizes this pregnancy isn’t just about babies… it’s about control. And she’s done being polite.
When Stan left me, it wasn’t dramatic. It was just a tight-lipped coffee shop conversation and an apologetic shrug.
“I’ve been talking to Ursula again,” he said. “I think we’ve got unfinished business, Nikki. And to be honest, I just want to make sure that she’s not the one who got away.”
“I get it,” I said, smiling at the waiter when he brought my slice of baked cheesecake. “You have to see this through. Not a problem
“Aren’t you… upset?” he asked, frowning over his cup of coffee.
“I am a bit sad but let’s face it, Stan. We’ve only been together for three months and I’m not Ursula. So, we owe it to ourselves to see what the world has to offer.”
He nodded and asked for the check.
It was true, we had only been together for three months. It stung, sure. But I told myself to get over it. And I almost did.
Until two weeks later, when I found out I was pregnant. With twins.
I told Stan, of course. There was a long pause on the phone, then a sound I didn’t expect. There was laughter. Choked, stunned, and joyful laughter.
“Oh my God,” he said. “Twins?! Nikki! This is… this is incredible.”
“You’re actually happy about this?” I asked.
“Yes!” he exclaimed. “I am! These are two innocent babies who deserve the entire world!”
Apparently, Ursula had fertility issues. And Stan had always wanted kids.
Stan said that getting back together wasn’t on the table but he wanted to be involved. And Ursula?
She “just wanted to support the process.”
But support turned out to mean something very different to all of us involved.
Ursula insisted on meeting.
She and Stan came to my apartment like they were touring a rental with their eyes darting around, assessing the space. She didn’t even sit down before laying out her terms.
“We want a home birth,” she began, as if we were mid-negotiation. “Formula feeding only, Nikki. That way we can split custody from day one, you understand? And the babies will call me Mama. You’ll be Mommy. It’ll help avoid any confusion in the long run.”
I blinked.
But it wasn’t from the surprise. It was from the sheer absurdity of what I was hearing.
Stan sat beside her, sipping coffee and eating the chocolate brownies I made at midnight courtesy of cravings. He kept looking at Ursula like she was discussing furniture placement. He nodded a little, eyes on the floor whenever she spoke to him directly.
I felt something sink in my chest. He wasn’t going to stop her. He wasn’t even going to slow her down.
“You’re not serious,” I said, trying not to laugh but my voice came out a lot flatter than I meant it to.
Ursula smiled. She had one of those tight, rehearsed grins you see on reality shows. Calculated, not kind.
“It’s important to co-parent with intention,” she said, like she was reading something off a Pinterest graphic.
The room felt too small. My own home suddenly became foreign.
I stood up, quietly and deliberately. My knees felt shaky but I didn’t let it show. Without a word, I walked over to the door and opened it.
There was a pause and a kind of silence that crackles in the air.
A woman walking through a door | Source: Midjourney
They got up slowly, confused. Stan looked back once and I didn’t meet his eyes.
They left but her presence didn’t.
Ursula’s perfume lingered, some vanilla-amber blend that tried to smell expensive but gave me a headache. I closed the door and leaned against it, exhaling like I’d been holding my breath since they walked in.
I knew then: this wasn’t going to be a shared journey.
This was going to be nothing but a war.
After that, Ursula texted me every day.
She asked me if I was walking enough. If I was eating the right fish. She told me to skip yoga and get prenatal acupuncture. She sent me name suggestions and nursery color palettes.
She also sent long, rambling messages about how her job wouldn’t grant her any maternity leave.
“It’s so unfair, Nikki. I get it, you’re carrying the twins. But it’s exhausting. I’m exhausted from the planning.”