My best friend and I grow up together, marrying our childhood sweethearts - one a doctor, one a firefighter. Our pregnancies seem to complete our perfect lives, until tragedy strikes during a morning stroll. When I'm violently shoved into a river, both our husbands abandon us to rush to another woman's side. Our babies die, our marriages collapse, and we vow to start over alone. But leaving these men behind proves harder than we ever imagined.

After my husband cheats, my relatives advise me to be tolerant and forgiving. Why? Because my husband's mistress is pregnant, and I'm infertile. Even his parents hurry to our house in the middle of the night to say, "Don't worry—we won't let that woman step foot in this house. Once she gives birth, the child will be yours." Is that so? I sneer as I look at a medical report. Perhaps the child will have something to do with me, but it definitely won't have anything to do with my husband.