Ethan turned back to me, his eyes filled with tears he didn’t bother trying to hide. “Is she really mine?”
I nodded once, slowly. “The DNA test was already done. You demanded it during the divorce proceedings—remember? You said you wouldn’t discuss any custody or support arrangements until paternity was legally established.”
He flinched like I’d physically struck him. “I never even looked at the results when they came in.”
“I know. Your lawyer sent them to mine. Ninety-nine point nine percent match. She’s yours, Ethan. But that doesn’t mean you can just walk back into my life and pretend none of this happened. That doesn’t erase the last eight months.”
“I know,” he said, wiping his eyes roughly with the back of his hand. “I know I don’t deserve anything from you. But I want to be responsible. I want to do the right thing now.”
“For the baby?”
“For both of you,” he said firmly.
I studied him carefully, this man I’d once loved, once trusted, once planned a future with. This wasn’t the confident, ambitious person I’d married, the one who always had a plan and always knew the next move. This was someone broken, frightened, drowning in shame and regret.
“You’re supposed to be getting married in two days,” I reminded him.
“I canceled it,” he said, his voice steady and certain. “Called the venue from my car on the way here. Told them there wouldn’t be a wedding, that I’d forfeit all the deposits. I don’t care about the money or what people will think or how many plans get ruined. I can’t marry someone who lied to me about something this fundamentally important.”
That shocked me more than anything else that had happened in this surreal day.
The Beginning of Learning to Show Up
My mother, who had been silent through this entire exchange, standing frozen by the window like she was watching a play she couldn’t quite believe was real, finally spoke up.
“I think you need to leave now, Ethan. My daughter needs rest, and so does your daughter. This has been too much for one day.”
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