Could it be… my husband fathered a child outside our marriage?
I collapsed onto a chair, my eyes fixed on the baby. His forehead, his eyes—they were undeniable resemblances. My throat tightened as my mother-in-law held the infant with quivering arms.
— Mom… what’s happening? — I pressed.
Tears welled in her eyes as she confessed:
— This child… belongs to John. We weren’t going to hide it forever, but his father said, “Wait for the right time.” We never thought you’d come so suddenly…
My world shattered. His travels, his excuses… all a façade for this horrible truth.
“And the baby’s mother?” I asked, my voice cracking.
She lowered her gaze:
— She abandoned the baby and disappeared… Poor John has been struggling alone, so…
She didn’t finish before the gate creaked open. Familiar footsteps echoed. My husband entered, suitcase in hand, his face paling when he noticed me.
“What are you doing here?” he stuttered, his expression shifting as his eyes landed on the baby in his mother’s arms.
I leapt up, fury blazing:
— Your so-called “business trip to England”… was that just a cover so you could secretly care for your ille:gitimate son?
The room turned suffocating. My mother-in-law clutched the baby, my father-in-law froze at the door, while sweat beaded on my husband’s forehead.
I stepped forward, nearly shouting:
— Admit it! This child is yours, isn’t he?!
Continued on next page:
After a long silence, he finally nodded.
My heart splintered. All my love, my trust, my sacrifices reduced to ashes.
A bitter laugh escaped me:
— So all these years, I was just a puppet, while you lived a double life—husband to me, father to another woman’s child.
He rushed toward me, gripping my hand desperately:
— Please, listen to me, it’s not what you think… I meant to tell you, but—
I yanked my hand away, eyes blazing:
— Not what I think!? Then what? Did this baby fall from the sky?
The silence was unbearable. My mother-in-law tried to speak, but I raised a hand to silence her. I needed the truth straight from him.
— How long did you plan to keep this from me? Until the baby called me “aunt”? Or until I couldn’t have children, and you used this as your excuse to discard me?
He dropped his head in silence. That silence was the cruelest confession of all.
I drew a deep breath, my voice steady and resolute:
— Fine. You have a son, but I still have my dig:nity. Divorce me. I refuse to live as the pitiful wife everyone pities.
Continued on next page:
continued on next page
ADVERTISEMENT
