When I gave birth to our daughter, Sarah, I expected joy, but my husband, Alex, questioned her paternity. Staring at her blonde hair and blue eyes, he asked, “You’re… sure?” His doubt crushed me.
Despite my reassurances, Alex demanded a paternity test. “I need this test. And if you don’t agree, I don’t think we can go forward.” Heartbroken, I agreed. He left to stay with his parents, leaving me to recover alone. My sister, Emily, supported me while Alex’s mother called, threatening, “If that test says that baby isn’t Alex’s, I’ll make sure you’re left with nothing!”
Two weeks later, Alex read the results—Sarah was his. His face turned red as I laughed bitterly. “I told you so.” He snapped, “You think this is funny, Jennifer?” When I revealed his mother’s threats, he looked ashamed. Emily, furious, told him, “Maybe you should leave.”
Days later, Alex apologized. “I let my insecurities ruin everything.” I agreed to try for Sarah’s sake. But soon, I discovered texts from him to a colleague, promising to leave me. I took screenshots, filed for divorce, and left. In the settlement, I won the house, car, and child support.
