My boyfriend of five years proposed just to get a green card. Cheated on me with three other women while I was four months pregnant. Now I’m finally calling my ex an MMA fighter because karma doesn’t work fast enough. My name is Madison and I’m sitting in my car outside a gym at 9:00 p.m. on a Tuesday with my phone in one hand and my pride in the other. And let me tell you, my pride is losing. The thing is, I’ve always been the girl who handles things on her own. Independent, strong, the type who doesn’t need anyone to fight her battles. But right now, with a baby bump pressing against the steering wheel and my entire life in shambles, I’m about to do something I swore I’d never do. I’m calling Tyler. Let me back up. 3 days ago, I was still living in what I thought was my fairy tale. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but whose relationship is after 5 years? Dimmitri and I had our issues, but I loved him. God, I loved him so much it physically hurts to even think about it now. We met at a coffee shop in downtown Seattle. I was a parallegal. He was this charming guy with an accent from Eastern Europe who made me laugh until my sides hurt. He told me he came here for a better life, for opportunities, for the American dream. And like an idiot, I believed every single word. The proposal came 8 months ago. It was at Cary Park overlooking the city at sunset. He got down on one knee, pulled out this gorgeous ring, and I cried happy tears for what felt like hours. Everyone told me congratulations. My mom was thrilled.

My best friend, Kayla, threw me an

engagement party. 2 months later, I found out I was pregnant. I was terrified. We weren’t married yet. We’d been planning the wedding for spring, but now everything felt rushed and scary and overwhelming. But Dimmitri held my hands and told me it was fate, that our baby was a blessing, that he couldn’t wait to be a father. More lies. The wedding got pushed up. We did a courthouse thing with just close family.

His mother flew in from Muldova, crying tears of joy. My dad walked me down the aisle in my simple white dress, and I felt like despite the chaos, everything was falling into place. That was 4 months ago. 3 days ago, I was cleaning our apartment because nesting instincts are real. And apparently, I needed to reorganize the entire closet at 7:00 a.m. That’s when I found Dimmitri’s old phone. The one he said died and he was keeping for parts or whatever. It wasn’t dead. I turned it on. I don’t even know why. Maybe it was intuition. Maybe it was the universe finally deciding to stop screwing with me. The battery was at 15% and before I could even think about what I was doing. I opened his messages. There were three different conversations, three different women, Amber, Jessica, Britney. And these weren’t just friendly conversations.

These were full-blown relationships, photos, videos, voice messages where he used the same pet names he used with me, the same promises, the same lies. Amber thought she was his girlfriend. They’d been seeing each other for 2 years. 2 years, which meant he was cheating on me with her before he even proposed.

Jessica was someone he met at his gym.

She had no idea I existed. They’d been together for over a year. Britney was the newest, only 6 months. But here’s the thing that made my blood freeze. She was also pregnant, 5 months along. I sat on our bedroom floor holding this phone, feeling my baby move inside me and something in my brain just shortcircuited. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t scream. I just sat there reading message after message, watching my entire life dissolve like sugar in hot water. Then I found the emails.

Dmitri had been planning this from the start. There were messages to his cousin back home, talking about how he needed to secure his status, how he’d found the perfect target. Those were his actual words, me. I was the target. He called me naive, easy to manipulate. He literally wrote, “She will do anything for love.” With a laughing emoji. The proposal timed perfectly to coincide with his visa expiring. The pregnancy, he wasn’t even sure if he was going to stay after he got his green card. There were conversations about going back to Muldova once he had permanent residency or maybe moving to California where his cousin had a construction business. I was never part of his future. I was just a stepping stone. I don’t remember standing up. I don’t remember walking to the bathroom. But suddenly, I was staring at myself in the mirror, 4 months pregnant, married to a stranger, and completely alone. That’s when I heard the front door open. Dmitri walked in, gym bag over his shoulder, smiling like nothing was wrong, like he hadn’t just destroyed everything. Maddie, baby, why are you home? I thought you had that deposition at 9:00. I walked out of the bathroom holding his phone. The smile fell off his face so fast it would have been funny if I wasn’t actively dying inside. Madison, wait. I can explain.

Explain what? That you’re cheating on me with three different women? That you married me for a green card? That there’s another pregnant woman out there who thinks you’re her boyfriend? He tried to approach me, hands up, like I was some wild animal. It’s not what you think. Those women, they don’t mean anything. You’re my wife. You’re the mother of my child. Britney is also carrying your child, Dimmitri. Britney is pregnant. That shut him up real quick. How long have you known? He finally asked. Not I’m sorry. Not I can explain. Just how long have you known?

Does it matter, Madison? Please, we can work through this. I love you. I love our baby. Those other women, they were mistakes. I’ll end it. I’ll end all of it. Just please. I laughed. Actually laughed. It came out bitter and sharp and nothing like how I usually sound.

You love me. You called me a target. You called me naive and easy to manipulate.

You planned this entire relationship like it was some kind of business transaction. His face went pale. He hadn’t expected me to find those messages. Get out, Madison. Get out. He left. Just grabbed his gym bag and walked out like it was nothing, like he wasn’t leaving his pregnant wife. Like 5 years meant absolutely zero to him. I called Kayla. She came over immediately with wine for her and ice cream for me.

She held me while I finally broke down and cried. We stayed up all night going through everything and that’s when she said something that changed everything.

You need to call Tyler. Tyler, my ex from 6 years ago, the one I dated for almost 3 years before we broke up because we wanted different things. He wanted to focus on his fighting career.

I wanted stability. We parted as friends, but we hadn’t really talked in years. Why would I call Tyler? I asked, even though somewhere deep down I already knew the answer because he’s always been protective of you. Remember that guy at the bar who wouldn’t leave you alone? Tyler was ready to throw hands. And Dmitri deserves someone throwing hands at him. Kayla, I can’t ask Tyler to fight my battles. You’re not asking. I’m suggesting. Besides, you know he’d want to know about this. He always cared about you, Motti. She was right. Tyler had always been that person. Even after we broke up, even when we stopped talking regularly, I knew if I really needed him, he’d be there. But was I really considering this? Was I actually thinking about calling my MMA fighter ex-boyfriend to handle my cheating con artist husband? I slept on it. Well, I didn’t sleep. I laid in bed in Kayla’s guest room, feeling my baby kick, thinking about how I was supposed to protect this child, how I was supposed to be strong for both of us. The next morning, I filed for an anulment, emergency anulment based on fraud. My lawyer, thank God I’m a parillegal and no good lawyers, said it was a strong case. The messages, the emails, the proof of his intentions. He was confident, but I still felt empty.

Dimmitri had taken so much from me, my trust, my peace, my faith in love, and he was just going to walk away with maybe a slap on the wrist from immigration. That’s when I decided to call Tyler. Which brings me to now.

Sitting in my car outside his gym. I’ve been holding my phone for 20 minutes, cursor hovering over his number, trying to figure out what I’m even going to say. Hey, remember me? Your ex from 6 years ago? Well, I got married, got pregnant, found out my husband is a fraud who’s been cheating on me with multiple women, and I was wondering if you could maybe scare him a little.

Yeah, that sounds totally reasonable.

I’m about to give up and drive away.

When someone taps on my window, I nearly jump out of my skin, dropping my phone.

When I look up, Tyler is standing there in gym shorts and a tank top covered in sweat, looking at me with concern. He motions for me to roll down the window.

Madison, what are you doing here? I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. Suddenly, seeing him after all these years, looking exactly the same, but somehow more mature, more solid. It all hits me at once, and I start crying.

Not pretty crying, full-on ugly. Can’t catch my breath crying. Tyler immediately opens my car door. Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Is someone?

He stops when he sees my belly. His eyes go wide. You’re pregnant. I nod, still crying. probably looking absolutely insane. Okay, you need to come inside.

Come on, can you walk? I let him help me out of the car. His hand is warm and steady on my arm, and it’s the first time in days I’ve felt like maybe I’m not completely falling apart. He takes me into the gym, past curious onlookers, into a small office in the back. He grabs a bottle of water from a mini fridge and hands it to me, then sits down across from me, waiting patiently while I try to compose myself. I’m sorry. I finally manage. I shouldn’t have come here. This is crazy. I’m crazy. You’re not crazy. Madison, talk to me. what’s going on? So, I tell him everything, the whole story. Dimmitri, the proposal, the green card scheme, the other women, the other pregnancy, all of it. Tyler’s face gets darker with every word, his jaw clenching tighter and tighter. When I finish, there’s silence.

Long, heavy silence. Then Tyler stands up and starts pacing. Where is he, Tyler? Where is he, Madison? I don’t know. He left. He’s been staying god knows where. Give me his number. What?

No, Tyler. I didn’t come here for you two. Why did you come here then? Good question. Why did I come here? I don’t know. I admit I just I needed to see someone who I know actually cared about me. Someone who wouldn’t lie to me. I needed to feel less alone. Tyler stops pacing and looks at me. Really looks at me and I remember why I fell for him in the first place. Those eyes that see everything. That presence that makes you feel safe. You’re not alone. He says quietly. You’ve never been alone. I would have been there if you called anytime. You know that we haven’t talked in years. Doesn’t matter. You think I ever stopped caring about you? We might not have worked out, but that doesn’t mean I wanted you to get hurt. Something in my chest cracks a little. A good crack. Like ice thawing. What do you need me to do? Tyler asks. I don’t know.

I didn’t think this through. Do you want me to talk to him? I almost laugh. Talk to him. Tyler, you’re an MMA fighter. I don’t think talking is what you do. I can be very persuasive with my words.