I was horrified to discover the same birthmark on my niece that I remembered seeing on my husband. But before jumping to any conclusions, I decided to do a secret DNA test that I knew would reveal the truth.

Under the cedar tree’s comfort, I relished the breeze with baby Sofia nestled in my arms. Despite being my sister-in-law Fiona’s child, my affection for her mirrored that of a mother’s love.

My husband, David, had painted a sad picture of his estranged, distant family, so Fiona and Sofia’s move to our neighborhood was a surprise. But their presence brought me a joy I hadn’t anticipated.

As we enjoyed our picnic, Fiona’s light-hearted offer to take Sofia back was met with my playful head shake. “No. You should clean up a little first. We are fine here,” I insisted, holding her baby tighter.

Fiona’s laughter warmed my heart. Minutes later, the food had been laid out with proper covers, and Sofia was way more restless than she had previously been. I instantly knew what to do as I slowly and carefully placed her on the picnic rug and began taking off her clothes to change her diapers.

But with one look at her diapers, it was clear that they were still crystal clean. I was still attaching the diaper to Sofia’s waist when I noticed the birthmark on her back. For a few seconds, I froze with my eyes glued to the birthmark I felt very familiar with. One I could have sworn was also on my husband’s back.

A minute later, I had dressed baby Sofia and held her gently in my arms as I stared intently at her face. I frowned as my mind raced with possibilities, questioning the true relationship between David and Fiona.

Fiona and David’s closeness now seemed a clue in a puzzle I hadn’t known I was assembling. But I pretended to be okay and continued our casual conversation and joyous picnic, choosing to observe before voicing my opinions.

In our quiet home later that night, I continued to treat David with the warmth I always had, but discovering the birthmark had planted suspicions in my mind. As I helped him dry off after his shower, something playful we did sometimes in the bathroom, I couldn’t help but fixate on the birthmark on his back.

It was too identical to Sofia’s. The similarity was undeniable, and it crushed me. I stopped helping him and heard his chuckle.

“You should have at least warned me that the kingly treatment was only for a few seconds,” David joked, unaware of the awful things running through my mind.

The possibility that David had lied to me all these years was too painful.

Emerging from the bathroom, I decided to seek the truth through a DNA test between Sofia and David.

“I need to know if Fiona is his mistress,” I whispered before falling asleep.

During Fiona’s next visit, I feigned normalcy. I even ran to pick up the baby, feeling how her small weight and warmth cleared my mind.

“At this point, Sofia and I might as well move in,” Fiona laughed.

“Of course. We are all family,” I said, chuckling awkwardly. But luckily, she didn’t notice.

When Fiona was distracted, I seized the opportunity to collect DNA samples – Sofia’s saliva and David’s hair, despite his confusion.

“Relax. I just helped you pull something out of your head,” I chided when he protested my pulling on his hair.

My resolve hardened as I dropped off the DNA samples, convinced more than ever of my course of action. I was allowed to have the results sent to me, and I eagerly agreed. The sooner, the better, I thought.

Fiona’s subsequent visits with Sofia only heightened my unease. Her attempts at conversation felt like mockery, fueling my anger and making her presence unbearable.

One day, Fiona tried talking to me, and in order not to have to respond, I pretended to be sick as I lay in the sitting room watching TV. To my annoyance, David and Fiona soon joined me. Their casual banter grated on my fried nerves.

But their discussion about Sofia’s future words was the last straw.

“Sofia is going to be two years old soon. I wonder what her first words would be,” David said with a rare smile as he looked down at Sofia’s face. “Carmen, what do you think?”

“I don’t know. It could be poo-poo for all we know,” I snapped.

“I think it could be dada,” David confidently replied, pushing his chest out like a proud dad.

That pushed me over the edge.

In a flash, I stood from the couch and accused them with my finger. “That’s enough! Tell me the truth, Sofia is your child!” I yelled. “Don’t even try to deny it. I saw the birthmark on your back and Sofia’s.”

My anger quickly evolved into sadness as water gathered in my eyes, making my voice weaker than I wanted. Their silence and shocked expressions confirmed my fears.

“Every time I try asking about Sofia’s father. I never get answers. Just tell me the truth!” I demanded, covering my face.

I expected them to speak or defend themselves, but they just sat there with shocked looks, almost like they were surprised I actually found out. I turned and fled outside.

Driving away, the last thing I saw was David trying to get into his car and chase after me, only for Fiona to stop him.

Seeking refuge in a hotel, I hoped distance might offer clarity. But my stomach betrayed me. I threw up everything I had eaten in the hotel bathroom, sure it was a physical manifestation of the betrayal I felt.

I dragged my feet toward the bed to rest when a thought froze me in my spot. “No!” I exclaimed to myself, horrified. Could I be… pregnant?

The idea of sharing a child with a man who deceived me haunted me through the night.