Then I laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the accusation was so absurd that my mind rejected it.
“Daniel, stop.”
His expression hardened.
“Was he sleeping with you?”
My laughter disappeared.
“What?”
“Answer me.”
“Are you insane?”
“He was at our house constantly.”
“Because you asked him to help me!”
“You were alone together.”
“I was pregnant with your child!”
Daniel paced toward the window.
“How long?”
“There is no ‘how long.’ Nothing happened.”
“That mark is identical.”
“So?”
“You expect me to believe that?”
I stared at my husband.
The man I had been married to for eleven years.
The man whose four daughters were currently making welcome-home signs for their baby brother.
The man I had just given another child.
And he was looking at me like I had betrayed him.
“Daniel, listen to yourself.”
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.”
He turned away.
I felt my stitches pull as I tried to sit farther upright.
“Get a DNA test.”
He looked back at me.
“What?”
“Do a paternity test.”
“Natalie—”
“Do it.”
My voice shook.
“Right now. Tomorrow. Whenever the hospital allows it. I don’t care. Test him.”
Daniel stared at me.
“You think a test changes what I saw?”
“Yes, because what you think you saw is ridiculous.”
He shook his head.
“I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
He grabbed his jacket.
My panic became anger.
“Daniel.”
“I need to leave.”
“You’re leaving?”
“I need space.”
“Our son was born less than an hour ago.”
He looked toward the bassinet but wouldn’t meet Noah’s face.
That hurt more than anything he had said.
I lowered my voice.
“Look at your son.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“Don’t.”
“Look at him.”
“I can’t.”
“Daniel, please.”
He moved toward the door.
I called his name again.
He stopped with one hand on the handle.
Without looking at me, he said:
“When they discharge you, stay with your sister.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I can’t come home if the baby is there.”
Then he walked out.
Three days later, my sister Claire helped me into her house.
I still had my hospital bracelet on.
Noah was asleep in his car seat.
My daughters were already inside because Claire had picked them up from school.
Daniel had barely communicated with me.
I had called him eleven times.
He answered none of them.
The only message I received was:
My attorney will contact you next week. I think we need to discuss separation.
I read the message until the words stopped looking real.
Claire took my phone.
“Stop.”
“He won’t listen to me.”
“Then stop trying to convince someone who has already decided you’re guilty.”
“He’s my husband.”
“He abandoned you in a hospital hours after you gave birth.”
I looked away.
Claire sat beside me.
“Have you done the test?”
“Not yet.”
“Do it.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“What if he still doesn’t believe me?”
“Then the test isn’t for him.”
I looked at her.
“It’s for you.”
That afternoon, I ordered a private DNA test.
Claire went to our house while Daniel was at work and brought back his toothbrush.
I swabbed Noah’s cheek.
Then I sealed both samples inside the envelope.
I sat in the post office parking lot for nearly forty minutes before mailing it.
Not because I doubted the result.
I knew who Noah’s father was.
I was shaking because my marriage had reached a point where I needed scientific proof to establish something my own husband should have known from eleven years of loving me.
Four days later, Marcus appeared at Claire’s house.
He was holding a blue stuffed elephant.
When I opened the door, he looked confused.
“Natalie?”
I said nothing.
“Daniel blocked my number.”
My grip tightened on the door.
“He won’t answer my calls. The girls aren’t home. Nobody is telling me anything.”
“We need some time.”
Marcus looked past me.
“Is Noah okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
His expression changed.
“Did I do something?”
For a second, I almost told him everything.
Then I remembered Daniel shouting his name in that hospital room.
“No.”
“Natalie—”
“I really can’t talk about this.”
Marcus slowly placed the stuffed elephant on the porch.
“Okay.”
He turned away.
Then stopped.
“If Daniel’s angry because I’ve been helping you…”
