I’m a 32-year-old woman, and when I was 16, I had a baby boy. I’ll admit, we weren’t careful, and I’ve dealt with the judgment for years. My boyfriend at the time, Nick, who’s now 33, took off when he found out I was pregnant, with a lot of help from his family. They claimed he had to focus on his “future as a college athlete” or something like that.

My parents were always clear that the decision about what to do next was up to me. After a lot of thinking, I decided that abortion wasn’t the right choice for me (no judgment to anyone else—it just wasn’t for me). I eventually chose to give the baby up for adoption. My parents knew a wonderful couple, Anna and David, who had been trying to adopt for years.

We met, and I just knew they were the right people. What started as a teenage mistake turned into something more like an act of surrogacy. I switched to homeschooling to finish my education while preparing for the baby.

Anna and David were there for everything—they even covered most of the medical costs. Anna, who was a teacher, helped me with my schoolwork and got me ready for college. They were there at the birth, and I didn’t hold the baby. Instead, Anna did, and it felt right.

I’ve stayed in the child’s life, but from a distance, as a “special aunt.” He’s no longer a baby now—he’s a teenager and knows who I am. He even jokes that if he ever needs a kidney, he knows who to call. His humor is just like mine, go figure. We talk occasionally, and he’s happy. I don’t regret my decision at all because I know I gave him the life he deserved.

Fast forward to my life now: I’m married to my husband, Ethan, who’s 44. He has two kids from his previous marriage to Sophie, who’s 40. Ethan was upfront from the start that his kids were his priority and that Sophie would always be in his life—not as a romantic partner, but as a co-parent and friend. I respected that completely.

Ethan’s daughter, Lily, who’s 19, and I get along well—she’s closer to Sophie, of course, but we still do “girls’ days” now and then. Ethan’s son, Noah, who’s 16, is much closer to me. He calls me his “other mom” and always asks me to be there for his big moments. We bonded when his childhood dog passed away, as my cat died around the same time.

Sophie and I? We’re best friends. I know that’s not typical, but we’ve always respected each other’s roles. I’ve never tried to take her place, and we both support each other in raising the kids.

Now, here’s where things get messy.

A few months ago, I took Noah to a medical appointment. It wasn’t serious, but he needed anesthesia. Ethan and Sophie couldn’t take the day off work, so I stepped in. While getting Noah settled in the car afterward, I ran into Nick. I didn’t recognize him at first—his name is common, and it had been over 16 years.

Nick approached me, rambling about how glad he was that “our son” was okay and how he’d been thinking about me and the baby for years. It took me a moment to realize what was happening.

I stopped him and said, “This isn’t the baby I had. I gave him up for adoption, and I’m now a stepmom.” Noah, still a little loopy from the anesthesia, chimed in with, “Other mom!”—which I’ll admit made me smirk.

I caught Nick up on the basics: I gave the baby up for adoption, the child knows who I am, and I’m happy with my life now. I also told him I wouldn’t give him any contact information for the adoptive family, as it’s not my place. He was stunned, but I got in the car and drove Noah home to rest.

Since then, Nick has found me on social media and started spinning a sob story about how I denied him the chance to be a father. He’s painted me as some heartless woman who “threw away her child” to raise someone else’s. Some of our old classmates have reminded him that he abandoned me when I needed him, and a few of his high school friends even admitted he used to brag about leaving me pregnant.

Despite this, a few of Nick’s relatives have reached out, calling me a “bad Christian” for taking away his chance to be a father. (For the record, I’m Jewish.) A couple of friends said it was harsh of me to give up the baby without telling Nick, but most have supported my decision.

For what it’s worth, the adoptive family has contact information for Nick’s parents if they ever want to reach out. I don’t control that. I just refuse to give Nick any information myself.

So, am I the bad guy?