After four grueling days of labor, I finally gave birth to our long-awaited miracle—a baby we had fought so hard for through years of fertility treatments. But when I woke from the emergency C-section, I found myself utterly alone. No Jeremy. No parents. Just a nurse, her hands shaking, delivering a devastating blow:
They had all left… convinced I had been unfaithful. Their reasoning? Our baby boy’s pale skin matched mine, not Jeremy’s deep brown complexion. In their eyes, that was proof enough.
Heartbroken, I begged Jeremy over the phone to believe me. I hadn’t cheated—this was his son. I promised to take a DNA test, not for myself, but to protect our child and prove the truth.