My world tilted. My husband’s business trips, his evasive explanations, his insistence that I not visit—it all unraveled in my mind at once.
“Are you saying…” I could barely finish the words, “…this baby is John’s?”
Before I could speak again, the sound of the gate creaked open. My husband entered, suitcase in hand. The moment his eyes landed on me—and then on the baby in his mother’s arms—his face drained of color.
Confrontation
“What are you doing here?” he stammered.Continue reading…