Michael’s face crumpled.
“I was burying my father, Aaron. And I had to stand there pretending he wasn’t mine.”
Aaron covered his face.
I watched him for a moment.
Then I stood.
He looked up.
“Elena….”
“You have a lot to talk about.”
“Wait.”
But I was already putting on my coat.
“I got the answer I came for.”
Aaron came back to Diana’s house the next morning.
I met him at the door.
“Elena, I was wrong. About everything. Please come home. I’ll do therapy. Anything.”
I looked down the hallway toward the bassinet where our son slept.
Then I looked at Aaron.
“No.”
“Elena, please.”
“One birthmark was enough for you to believe I betrayed you. My word wasn’t enough to make you believe I hadn’t. I had to prove myself to my own husband.”
“I was angry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“I begged you to stay. And you walked out.”
Aaron reached toward my hand.
I pulled away.
“You didn’t need proof to condemn me. You needed proof to believe me. I can’t build a life on that.”
Behind me, my son began to fuss.
Aaron said my name again.
I turned toward the bassinet.
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