It had been exactly one year since I lost my wife. A year of loneliness, sleepless nights, endless “whys,” and trying to be both a father and a mother to our children.
Honestly, it was awful. But people get used to everything – even to pain. I learned to live with it – for the children, for her memory.
Tall, wearing a dark coat, with a cold gaze. He stood there as if he had been waiting for us. His face looked strangely familiar.
— Who are you? — I asked cautiously.
He didn’t respond right away. He looked at the children. Then at me.
— Listen, — he said quietly. — I’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars.
I couldn’t believe my ears.
— What did you say?
— I know the truth. It sounds insane, but… those children are not yours.
He pulled an old, worn-out photograph from his pocket. My wife was in it… pregnant. And standing next to her was him.
— I was with her before you. She left me because I cheated on her. She never told you. Because it was better that way – for everyone.
— What are you talking about? These are my children — I whispered.
— No, she was already pregnant when she started seeing you.
I stood there in shock, unable to comprehend. I felt deceived and betrayed. The woman I loved had lied to me all this time, and I had been raising someone else’s children. And now… what am I supposed to do?
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