When my five-year-old came home from a weekend with my sister Lily, he said, “Guess what me and my other dad did!” I laughed—until I realized he was serious.
Lily had always been my support, caring for Eli since birth and taking him on weekend adventures. Eli never knew his real father, Trent, who left before I knew I was pregnant. So who was this “other dad”?
The next weekend, I followed them to the park. There was Lily, Eli, and a man in a cap, laughing together. When he turned, I froze—Trent. Older, leaner, but unmistakable.
Lily confessed she had told Trent about Eli. He claimed he never knew I was pregnant and wanted to meet his son. She thought she was protecting us, introducing him slowly. I felt betrayed, but when Eli asked to see Trent again, I couldn’t refuse.
That night, I called Trent. “I’m not forgiving you overnight,” I said, “but I won’t keep Eli from you—if we go slow, together.” Trust was shaken, but maybe, with time, it could grow again.
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