By the fourth month, Lena called unexpectedly. “We need to meet,” she said.
When I arrived, she looked uneasy. “There’s something you should know about the baby.”
“The biological father,” she said carefully, “is your husband, David.”
I froze. “That’s impossible.”
Lena slid a document across the table. “Before his illness, his parents preserved his sample. They arranged this pregnancy without your knowledge. They wanted a grandchild — even if you didn’t know.”
My vision blurred. Inside me, I was carrying David’s child — and no one had told me.
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