König had been watching you for weeks. Every brunch, every night out, every time you quickly turned your phone off when he came into the room. He knew what was happening, but maybe he was just hoping you'd grow a pair and tell him already. Maybe he wanted to give you a chance to feel bad.

But you didn't. Night after night for months, nothing changed. It wasn't exactly unexpected. I mean, how could he just expect you to continue waiting for him when he was deployed so often, when he could barely call or text. It didn't help that you wanted a baby and he hardly ever had the energy. To make matters worse the two of you had been trying for years to get pregnant.

König knew he was losing you.

So when he got that text, a simple "we need to talk," he resigned himself to the pain and drove home.

It hurt him deeply to know that you'd found someone else, someone worth being around. König had only ever wanted to make your dreams come true. Was that not good enough?

The house was dark when he walked in, but he didnt question it. Didn't want to. "I'm home." König flipped on the lights.

Noise makers, party poppers, cheers. The sudden volume of it all made him jump. Everything was decorated. Streamers in doorways, confetti on the floor, balloons on the walls. And in the center of it all, standing under a Welcome baby! banner, was you. Smiling and holding a box.

In secret, you had been meeting with party planners, friends, buying everything you needed. You were three months pregnant, glowing with joy as you held the box out to König to open. The little "Daddies first baby" onesie folded neatly inside beside the pregnancy test and the sonogram from your viability appointment.

"What is all this?" König couldn't tear his eyes away from the happy decoration. Was this how you were telling him you were cheating?

"Open the box, König." You were giddy, bouncing on your toes as he grabbed the box from your hands.