When the envelope finally came, my husband insisted we open it together. The air in the room felt heavy, like it was holding its breath. My heart pounded as he tore through the seal.
His hands trembled as he unfolded the papers. His eyes scanned the words once, then again.
Tears filled his eyes as he whispered, “She’s mine.”
The DNA test confirmed it without a shred of doubt. Our daughter was biologically his.
No one spoke. The tension that had poisoned our home for weeks broke apart in that single moment. My mother-in-law stood frozen, her earlier threats echoing in her mind. My husband dropped the papers and sank to his knees beside the crib, sobbing.
I didn’t yell. I didn’t demand apologies. I simply held my baby closer, the only truly innocent one among us.
The Road Back to Trust
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