As I walked down the street, heads turned to catch a glance of my hunky fella.
He’s all mine, I grinned to myself.
At first, I didn’t take William for the settling-down kind of bloke, but after swearing he only had eyes for me, I trusted him completely.
‘I want to have a baby with you,’ William announced one day after putting Ashley, my son from a previous relationship, to bed.
‘What?’ I asked, flabbergasted. ‘Where has this come from?’
‘Well we have been together two years,’ he laughed. ‘It’s sort of what people do.’
I loved William, but after raising Ashley on my own for so long, I finally felt like I’d found my feet.
I was back at work and at last had something resembling a social life.
I wasn’t ready to give that up.
‘Now just isn’t the right time,’ I replied.
Over the years William continued to beg for a baby and eventually I caved.
Not long after coming off contraception, I found myself feeling unwell.
‘Told you so,’ I smiled as I waved the positive pregnancy test in William’s face.
‘I can’t believe it!’ he beamed.
It might have been William’s idea, but I soon found myself giddy to welcome a little brother or sister for Ashley.
Only, a few weeks later those dreams were quickly dashed.
‘I’ve been bleeding,’ I told the doctor.
Devastatingly, I found out I’d miscarried and could see the pain in William’s eyes.
‘We can try again,’ he reassured me.
I fell pregnant a further two more times, but each ended in miscarriage.
‘We can keep trying,’ William encouraged, refusing to give up on his dream of becoming a dad.
But deep down, I felt drained.
Falling pregnant again, I was too scared to get excited.
Only this time, months passed and my belly grew bigger and bigger.
William really stepped up to the role of daddy-to-be, even putting Ashley and me before nights out on the town with his mates.
Only, one day, when I dialled William’s number, I was met with an international dialling tone.
After waiting for what felt like forever, he picked up.
‘I’m on a stag in Panama,’ he slurred.
‘As in Central America?’ I hissed back. ‘Why on earth didn’t you tell me?’
After landing back home, he headed straight to mine.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he apologised. ‘I needed one last blowout before the baby arrives.’
‘This can’t happen again,’ I told him.
‘I promise, babe,’ he replied. ‘You and the baby are number one from now on.’
But he was full of empty promises.
Most nights, William went out to the pub. He even stopped answering my texts and calls.
‘He’ll change once the baby’s arrived,’ I told mum after dropping Ashley off for the night.
‘I’m sure he will,’ Mum reassured me. ‘Now you go and enjoy yourself.’
I was staying at my best mate’s while William went to a boxing match with his mates.
The thought of being home alone was too much to bear, so my pal and I planned a night of trashy telly.
‘What’s wrong?’ my friend asked as I clutched my belly.
‘It’s probably just indigestion,’ I winced.
By morning the pain was too much to bear and it was clear I needed to go to hospital.
I tried to contact William, but he didn’t pick up.
‘I’m going into labour,’ I huffed down the phone. ‘Don’t you dare miss the birth of our son.’
Just as I was wheeled into theatre, William rushed through the door.
‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered, clearly hungover.
I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
‘I’ve just got your messages.’
All I cared about was my baby arriving safely and decided to let it go.
Only, when our baby boy Roman arrived, a team of medics huddled over him.
Heavily sedated, I had no idea what was happening.
‘Everything’s fine,’ William soothed. ‘They’re just cleaning him up.’
Later, I found out there’d been complications with the birth.
Roman had developed meconium aspiration syndrome.
‘He inhaled his own poo not long after delivery,’ a doctor explained. ‘It caused his lungs to collapse.’
My gorgeous boy stopped breathing for two whole minutes and there was a chance he might have brain damage.
Over the next few days, I watched helplessly as he received cooling therapy — freezing his brain to minimise any damaging effects from the toxic substance he’d inhaled.
‘Come on little one,’ I sobbed, never leaving his side.
William was there for Roman too, but unlike me he was in and out of hospital.
After three weeks, we finally had good news.
‘The scans show no sign of brain damage,’ the doctor smiled. ‘Roman is ready to be discharged.’
All I wanted to do was spend quality time together as a family, but William had other ideas…
‘I’m going out to celebrate,’ he announced, leaving me to look after our baby while he sank pint after pint.
As the weeks passed, my mood plummeted lower and lower.
Not that William cared, the only thing he seemed to care about was going out with the lads.
‘Thanks for replying to my messages,’ I remarked sarcastically as he stumbled through the door.
‘I broke my phone,’ he replied, holding up his smashed handset.
For once it seemed he was telling the truth and as a temporary measure he borrowed Ashley’s.
Once William’s phone was fixed, he left the old handset on the side.
Ashley will be thrilled to have his phone back, I smiled to myself.
Checking that the phone had been wiped, I noticed William had forgotten to delete Facebook messenger.
'No harm in looking,' I told myself as I opened the app.
Scrolling through, I found countless messages from a woman called Tanya.
Hello baby, one read. I miss you.
I felt sick to my stomach.
To add insult to injury, the messages dated back to when I was just a few months pregnant.
I messaged Tanya from my own phone, telling her all about baby Roman and me.
I’m sorry you’re going through this, she replied. He told me you weren’t together.
He’d led us both up the garden path.
Tanya told me they’d been seeing each other from the time I was pregnant and they’d slept together at his mum’s house.
How can I be sure you’re telling the truth? I typed back to her.
Then she went on to describe in accurate detail the bedroom he had at his mum’s place.
All those times he said he’d been out with his mates,
he’d been bedding his mistress instead!
Even while our baby lay in hospital, he’d popped out to see her.
‘Hiya, love,’ William smiled as he crept through the front door later that day. ‘How are my two favourite people doing?’
‘We’ve been catching up with Tanya,’ I fumed, holding up the old handset.
‘I can explain,’ he mumbled, pale as a ghost.
‘Explain what?’ I howled at him furiously. ‘That you’ve been having it off with another woman while our baby could have died in hospital.’
Instead of ’fessing up, he scarpered off to his mum’s house like the coward he is.
He didn’t even have the decency to man up and apologise for all the hurt he caused.
There and then I knew I was done and messaged the toe-rag.
It’s over, I typed.
To this day, he’s never apologised for his actions.
Sure, William might be a good dad, but he’s the worst partner.
He begged me for a baby, then cheated on me while I was pregnant.
Even worse, while our baby lay in hospital, he ran straight into the arms of his floozy.
That’s unforgivable.
Sonia Oberai, 32, Hounslow, West London