The missing piece of the puzzle snapped into place. Lacey must’ve severed her relationship with me for the sake of her child. She’d sacrificed our love to save her marriage so the child could grow up with his family intact.
Photo after photo showed the same child growing up through the years: birthday parties, Little League games, and school portraits. The boy had her smile, I noticed. But as he grew into a young man in the photos, my heart began to race.
The final photo confirmed what part of me already knew. Lacey’s boy was the man from the grocery store! My hands shook so badly that I nearly dropped the next item.
At the bottom of the box lay an envelope with a letter inside it. My fingers trembled as I unfolded it. The paper was thick, expensive, and covered in Lacey’s flowing script.
By now, I already had a strong suspicion regarding what she’d written in the letter, and why she’d sent me these photos of her child, but I needed to know for sure. The room seemed to spin around me as I started reading Lacey’s letter. Dearest Will,
If you’re reading this, then I’m gone.
I wanted to tell you the truth for so long, but I couldn’t. When I found out I was pregnant with your child, I chose to keep the secret to protect my marriage. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I robbed you of something precious.
“No,” I whispered, the word falling from my lips like a stone. “No, no, no…”
Our son, Dwayne, never knew. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him.
But now I’m gone, I want to give you the chance I took away. He’s in your city for a business opportunity. If you want to reach him, here’s his number.
He’s a good man, Will, and I dearly hope you’ll meet him. Show him this letter, if you want. I know that after all these years, this must feel like a cruel shock.
I never meant to hurt you, but I did, and for that, I’m sorry. With love, always,
Lacey
Tears blurred my vision as I reread the letter. I traced the phone number with my fingertip, feeling the slight indentations in the paper where she’d pressed down with her pen.
My son. I had a son. For a long time, I just sat there, the letter clutched in my trembling hands.
The world had tilted on its axis, scattering everything I thought I knew like leaves in a storm. Should I call? What if he didn’t believe me?
What if he hated me for not being there, even though I hadn’t known? The questions swirled in my mind like fall leaves in a gutter. But then I remembered the grocery store.
The quiet kindness in his voice, and the way he’d stepped up without hesitation. That was my son. My boy.
The thought sent such a powerful wave of emotion through me. It nearly took my breath away. The phone felt heavy in my hand as I picked it up.
Outside, a car horn honked, someone shouted, and life went on as if everything was normal. As if my world hadn’t just been turned inside out. Before I could talk myself out of it, I dialed.
One ring. Two rings. Each seemed to last an eternity.
“Hello?”
His voice was steady, familiar. My throat closed up, the words “I’m your father” refusing to come out. How do you tell someone something like this?
How do you bridge a gap 35 years wide? Instead, I managed a nervous laugh. “Hello, Dwayne, it’s your…
I just wanted to thank you for paying for my groceries at the store a few weeks ago. It’s kind of wild how I ended up with your number. Seriously, you wouldn’t believe it!
Do you have time for a coffee or tea in the city?”
The silence that followed felt endless, but I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. My son. “And you’ll tell me how you got my number?” he asked.
“Yes… I’ll tell you everything,” I replied. Source: amomama
