After our second baby was born, Peter’s family came to visit. I overheard my MIL whisper to my SIL in German, “She still doesn’t know, does she?”
My heart raced. “Of course not,” my SIL replied. “PETER NEVER TOLD HER THE TRUTH ABOUT THE FIRST BABY.”
I froze. The first baby? My mind spun with questions. What could they mean?
I pulled Peter into the kitchen, barely able to contain my panic. “Peter, what is this about our first baby?”
His face paled, and for the first time, I SAW REAL FEAR IN HIS EYES. “What haven’t you told me?” I repeated
I thought I knew everything about my husband until I overheard a shocking conversation between his mother and sister. Peter finally confessed that, after our first child was born, his family pressured him to take a paternity test. The results said he wasn’t the father, but Peter never doubted me and kept it a secret for years.
Peter’s family had questioned our son’s red hair, and he didn’t know how to stop them. I felt betrayed, but he apologized, and I knew we couldn’t throw away our family. We had to rebuild, together.
