His Mistress Streamed Her Ultrasound onto Our TV

We’ve been together for five years, engaged for six months. Yesterday, we hosted a dinner at our apartment for his parents to discuss the wedding budget. Everything was going perfectly. His mom brought a cake, his dad was sharing stories, and my fiancé was being his usual sweet, attentive self.

We decided to put on some background jazz music through the YouTube app on our TV. About halfway through the main course, the music suddenly cut out. The screen went black for a second, and then a massive live AirPlay stream popped up.

It was a video of an OB-GYN clinic room. You could clearly hear a technician saying, "Alright, let's take a look at the heartbeat." Then, a live ultrasound of a fetus appeared on our 65-inch screen. A second later, a text message notification banners across the top of the TV screen from a girl named 'Tiffany', saying: "He looks just like you daddy, I can't wait for you to finally leave her this weekend."

The room went so dead silent you could hear the ice melting in our glasses. My fiancé’s phone was sitting face down on the table, vibrating like crazy. He scrambled for it, his hands shaking so violently he dropped his fork into his plate, and tried to turn the TV off, screaming that our neighbor must have accidentally connected to our Bluetooth.

But it was too late. His mother is a retired nurse. She looked at the name printed in the top corner of the ultrasound scan on the screen—it matched the name of my fiancé's "female coworker" who he claimed was just a close friend from the marketing department.

His dad stood up, walked over to him, and literally dragged him out of his chair by his collar. His mother looked at me, burst into tears, and told me to keep the $15,000 engagement ring and sell it.

While they were screaming at him in the hallway, I went into our bedroom, grabbed every single piece of clothing he owned, dragged it out to the balcony, and threw it down into the muddy courtyard three floors below. He’s currently staying at a motel, sending me fifty texts a minute begging for forgiveness, saying it was a "one-time mistake" and she’s trying to trap him. I’m numb. The wedding is off, obviously.