My husband announced that he was leaving for a week-long business trip to England. He urged me to stay home and rest, insisting there was no need to visit his parents in the countryside. Yet that day, my instincts told me differently, so I took the bus and decided to surprise my in-laws.
As soon as I entered the gate, what struck me first wasn’t my mother-in-law’s warm smile, nor my father-in-law’s slender figure sweeping the yard. What froze me in place was the sight of an entire row of baby diapers hanging from clotheslines. Some carried yellow stains, others bore traces of milk.
I stood rooted, unable to move. My in-laws were well into their sixties – far too old to have a baby. None of our relatives had left a child with them either. Then… whose diapers were these?
I stepped inside trembling. The house was unusually quiet, but a faint aroma of baby formula lingered. On the table lay a half-empty feeding bottle. My chest tightened, thoughts clashing in my mind. Could my husband be keeping something from me?
Then, from the old bedroom my husband and I always used when visiting, came the cry of a baby. I rushed there, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the lock. The moment the door swung open, I saw a newborn on the bed, flailing tiny arms and legs, while my mother-in-law hurriedly altered his clothes.
She paled at the sight of me, as if the blood drained from her face. Stammering, I asked:
— Mom… whose baby is this?
Her hands trembled, her eyes darted away, and she whispered faintly:
— Please don’t hate us… this child carries the bl00d of our family.
My body went numb. My husband’s excuses, his strange trips, her evasions… everything détr0yed together in my head.
Could it be… my husband fathered a child outside our marriage?
I collapsed onto a chair, my eyes fixed on the baby. His forehead, his eyes—they were undeniable resemblances. My throat tightened as my mother-in-law held the infant with quivering arms.
— Mom… what’s happening? — I pressed.
Tears welled in her eyes as she confessed:
— This child… belongs to John. We weren’t going to hide it forever, but his father said, “Wait for the right time.” We never thought you’d come so suddenly…
My world shattered. His travels, his excuses… all a façade for this horrible truth.
“And the baby’s mother?” I asked, my voice cracking.
She lowered her gaze:
— She abandoned the baby and disappeared… Poor John has been struggling alone, so…
She didn’t finish before the gate creaked open. Familiar footsteps echoed. My husband entered, suitcase in hand, his face paling when he noticed me.
“What are you doing here?” he stuttered, his expression shifting as his eyes landed on the baby in his mother’s arms.
I leapt up, fury blazing:
— Your so-called “business trip to England”… was that just a cover so you could secretly care for your ille:gitimate son?
The room turned suffocating. My mother-in-law clutched the baby, my father-in-law froze at the door, while sweat beaded on my husband’s forehead.
I stepped forward, nearly shouting:
— Admit it! This child is yours, isn’t he?!
After a long silence, he finally nodded.
My heart splintered. All my love, my trust, my sacrifices reduced to ashes.
A bitter laugh escaped me:
— So all these years, I was just a puppet, while you lived a double life—husband to me, father to another woman’s child.
He rushed toward me, gripping my hand desperately:
— Please, listen to me, it’s not what you think… I meant to tell you, but—
I yanked my hand away, eyes blazing:
— Not what I think!? Then what? Did this baby fall from the sky?
The silence was unbearable. My mother-in-law tried to speak, but I raised a hand to silence her. I needed the truth straight from him.
— How long did you plan to keep this from me? Until the baby called me “aunt”? Or until I couldn’t have children, and you used this as your excuse to discard me?
He dropped his head in silence. That silence was the cruelest confession of all.
I drew a deep breath, my voice steady and resolute:
— Fine. You have a son, but I still have my dig:nity. Divorce me. I refuse to live as the pitiful wife everyone pities.
He panicked:
— No! I was wrong, but think of our family, my parents …
I looked at him icily:
— The one who never thought about this family… was you.
With that, I turned and walked away, leaving behind the infant’s cries, my husband’s desperate pleas, and my mother-in-law’s sobs.
But I didn’t stop. Only one thought burned in my mind: I will start again and just never with him.