Before I could respond, Margaret’s sharp voice cut through the tension.
“Enough of this nonsense! The Kinder egg was from me.”
Both Clay and I turned to her, equally shocked.
“What?” Clay said, his voice rising. “Mom, what are you talking about?”
Margaret sighed dramatically, brushing a hand through her perfectly styled hair.
“I thought she’d take the hint and leave before you got back. I underestimated her stubbornness.”
My mouth fell open. Clay’s face turned red as he turned to me.
“You visited “friend” two weeks ago.
Do you think I’m stupid?”
Tears streamed down my face as I tried to defend myself. “Clay, please, listen to me! Nothing happened that night.
I can explain everything.”
But he wasn’t listening. His voice grew louder with every word. “I will never accept this child, Emma!
Get out!”
“It’s for the best, Clay,” Margaret said, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “You deserve better.”
That was it. I couldn’t take any more.
I found my documents, grabbed some money, and rushed to the door.
***
Hours later, I left Sarah’s cramped apartment, my suitcase still half-packed and my mind buzzing with questions I couldn’t ignore any longer. I had to face the man from that night to piece together the fragments of a memory that refused to settle.
We met at a quiet café. George arrived on time, his calm presence cutting through the storm raging inside me.
He was tall, with a kind but serious demeanor that put me at ease, even though I barely knew him.
As he sat down across from me, I blurted out, “I need to know what happened that night.”
“Emma, I’ve been waiting to explain. You ate a chocolate candy that had alcohol in it. Maybe that’s the reason you passed out in the car.” His voice was steady, but there was a hint of regret in his eyes.
“I didn’t know what else to do, so I brought you to my place to make sure you were safe.”
I stared at him, the pieces clicking into place. My allergy to alcohol! It explained the blackout.
“And… nothing happened?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
He shook his head.
“Nothing. You slept on the couch, and when I woke up, you were gone. I didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye.”
Shame flushed my cheeks.
“I’m sorry for running off like that. I was confused and embarrassed.”
George smiled gently. “It’s okay.
I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
I told him about all my mess. When he offered me a place to stay, it felt like the first piece of stability in days. So, I stayed.
***
The following day, I couldn’t push the questions away any longer.
In my heart, I was certain that the father of my child could only be Clay. But his words, his mother’s accusations, and the haunting shadow of that night made me doubt everything.
I needed answers and trusted only one person to help me find the truth: Mrs. Green, our family doctor.
When I arrived at her office, she immediately noticed something was wrong.
“Emma,” she said softly, motioning me to sit down. “You look like you’ve been crying. What’s going on?”
“I… I need your help,” I stammered.
“I don’t know who else to turn to.”
Her warm eyes urged me to continue. I told her everything: the pregnancy, Clay’s reaction, Margaret’s accusations, and my lingering doubts. By the time I finished, my tears were flowing freely again.
Mrs.
Green didn’t waste a second.
“Let’s figure this out,” she said with a firm nod, turning to her computer.
Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard as she pulled up Clay’s medical records.
When she finally looked up. “Emma, there’s nothing physically wrong with your husband. He’s fully capable of having children.”
“Then… why would he say he’s infertile?”
She sighed, her eyes full of sympathy.
“Maybe he didn’t want children. He lied to you.”
“All this time…” I whispered. “He let me believe I’ve cheated on him.
And his mother… She’s also been lying to me!”
Mrs. Green placed a comforting hand on mine. “I’m sorry, Emma.
You didn’t deserve this. You deserve honesty and someone who will stand by you.”
I left her office feeling both shattered and strangely relieved. At least, finally, I had the truth.
When I returned to George’s house that evening, his warm smile greeted me at the door.
“How did it go?” he asked gently, handing me a cup of tea.
I hesitated for a moment before sharing everything with him. His calm presence felt like a balm for my wounds. He listened without interrupting, his eyes steady and full of understanding.
“You didn’t deserve that.
But you’re stronger than you realize.”
His words stayed with me. Over the next six months, George became my rock. He was patient and kind during my divorce process, always there when I needed him.
We spent countless evenings talking, laughing, and rebuilding the pieces of my life. Slowly but surely, my heart began to heal.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges, George turned to me with a nervous smile.
“Emma, will you marry me?”
“Yes! Of course, yes!”
When our daughter was born, I held her tiny hand and felt a deep, unshakable peace.
Looking at George, standing beside me with that same steady smile, I finally understood what a real family meant.
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