The day I gave birth to my daughter was supposed to be magical. Instead, it became the beginning of the end of my marriage. Alex, my husband, took one look at Sarah and immediately questioned if she was his. He insisted on a paternity test, and though it crushed me, I agreed—I knew the truth would win in the end.
What I didn’t expect was the way his family treated me while we waited. His mother’s threats, his coldness—it was like they’d already convicted me. When the test came back proving Alex was the father, he tried to act like it had all been a misunderstanding.
But I wasn’t fooled. A few days later, I found proof of his affair. Suddenly, his accusations made perfect sense: he’d been cheating, so he assumed I had too.
I filed for divorce that week. With his infidelity as evidence, the court granted me full custody, the house, and child support. By the time Alex realized what he’d thrown away, Sarah and I were already building a new life—one without his distrust or lies.
