The moment they placed him on my chest, everything else disappeared. The anger. The humiliation. The confusion. It all blurred behind the warmth of his tiny body.
My dad arrived at the hospital later that day. He stood at the foot of my bed, looking at his grandson with an expression I had never seen before — fierce and protective.
Then he took my hand.
“It’s time you know the truth,” he said.
My heart skipped.
“Your husband is the most disgusting person on Earth to me,” he continued, his voice no longer soft. “I want you to divorce him. Immediately. Your mother and I will help you with the baby.”
I blinked at him, confused.
“But… you said you cheated on Mom. You said I should stay.”
He exhaled slowly, like a man setting down a heavy burden.
“I never cheated on your mother,” he said. “I lied.”
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