My confrontation with Mark revealed the truth. Years earlier, during one of my fertility treatment cycles, he’d had a one-night affair. He never knew the woman was pregnant until now. Seeing the birthmark on Sam’s foot brought his guilt and shame rushing back.
I couldn’t forgive his betrayal. I filed for divorce, securing custody of Sam. Despite the circumstances, my bond with Sam only deepened. He quickly became my world, filling my days with joy and purpose.
Years later, Sam has grown into a kind, bright young man. Mark remains distant, sending the occasional card. People sometimes ask if I regret adopting Sam, knowing what I know now. My answer is always the same: love isn’t defined by blood—it’s a choice. And choosing Sam was the best decision I ever made.