When my son was born, I expected joy. Instead, I got a room full of whispers, a red-haired baby that looked nothing like me, and a truth my wife had buried for years. What I uncovered wasn’t infidelity — it was something much harder to face.
They say life rarely goes as planned, but I always thought mine was pretty simple. I grew up in Michigan, married my college sweetheart, secured a steady job in construction management, and settled into a modest house in the suburbs.
All I hoped for was a peaceful life, a wife I could trust, and maybe a kid or two running around someday.
Emily and I had been together for eight years, married for five. She was warm and smart, the kind of person who cried over animal rescue videos and could light up any room she walked into.