A Grain Of Sand In My Eyes
Belle York, my wife, was pregnant, but on our way back from getting the diagnosis, she said, “I have something to tell you. The baby is Harry’s. I also got a notice saying that my health won’t let me have another baby after this one.”
When she saw my smile freeze, she took out a paternity test. Harry Grant, my brother-in-law, was indeed listed as the father.
Her voice was eerily calm. “On the day you fell asleep at the back of the jeep with fever, we did it in the passenger seat, right where I’m sitting.”
In an instant, I felt like I had fallen into the abyss.
I opened my mouth, but it was like something was blocking my throat.
As she spoke, Belle cast her eyes on her swollen belly, and every word she spoke next was like needles stabbing into my heart. “If you can’t accept the baby, I’ll abort it, but my uterus will still be badly damaged, and I won’t get pregnant again. I’ve told you the truth now. You decide on whether I get to give birth or not.”
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