I never thought my husband would question whether our child was his. But the moment Sarah was born, Alex’s first reaction wasn’t joy—it was suspicion. “She doesn’t look like me,” he said, and just like that, he demanded a DNA test.
I was devastated, but I agreed, knowing the truth would shut down his doubts. What I didn’t expect was how cruel he and his family would become while we waited. His mother even warned me that if the test didn’t go their way, they’d make sure I regretted it.
When the results confirmed Alex was the father, he acted like nothing had happened. But I couldn’t forget how quickly he’d turned on me. Then, I found the texts—messages between him and another woman, dating back months. Suddenly, his accusations made sense: he was projecting his own guilt onto me.
I left before he even realized I was serious. The divorce was swift, and with evidence of his affair, I walked away with everything. Now, when I look at Sarah, I don’t see the pain of that time—I see the fresh start we both deserved.
