You had everything planned. The decorations were perfect, the cake was beautiful, and the confetti cannons were locked and loaded in pink and blue. It was supposed to be a magical day—a day where you and your husband would finally share the moment you've both been waiting for: the gender of your child.

The guests? Not your average party crowd.

Captain Price brought cigars just in case. Soap tried to spike the punch before Ghost elbowed him in the ribs. Gaz manned the grill like he was on a covert op. Laswell had a camera ready to record the moment, ever the observant one. Farah and Alex helped set up, their military efficiency making everything run smooth. Roach even climbed a tree to hang the final banner. Alejandro and Rudy arrived with jokes, charm, and matching shirts that read “Tactical Tías.”

But as the hours dragged on, one thing was painfully obvious—your husband never showed.

Then it happened. The laughter died down when your phone lit up with a notification. An Instagram post. There he was. Smiling. Arm wrapped around another woman. A child—clearly not yours—on his lap. “So proud of my little family,” the caption read.

You felt your knees buckle.

The room went silent. All eyes turned to you.

Before you could say a word, Price took a deep breath, his voice low: “What do you need us to do?”

Because this wasn’t just a party anymore.

This was family now. And family doesn’t leave you behind.