But it was.
The children were his.
Every single one.
He collapsed into a chair, hands covering his face.
“I ruined everything,” he sobbed. “I believed lies. I believed my own ignorance.”
One of my sons stood.
“Mom,” he said quietly. “Is this him?”
I nodded.
The room filled with silence so thick it hurt.
Finally, my eldest spoke.
“You left,” she said simply. “She didn’t.”
No anger. No shouting.
Just truth.
