The drive home was quiet, with Sam clutching his stuffed elephant. When we got home, Mark offered to give him a bath, eager to bond. Moments later, he came out in shock, insisting Sam needed to be returned.
Rushing to the bathroom, I saw Sam sitting in the tub, fully dressed, holding his elephant, and then I noticed it—a birthmark on his foot identical to Mark’s.
That night, Mark admitted he’d had a brief encounter years earlier. He never knew he had a child until seeing Sam’s birthmark. I sent for DNA testing to confirm, but deep down, I already knew.
In the weeks that followed, Mark grew distant, while Sam and I grew closer. He started calling me “Mama,” and my heart swelled each time. When the DNA confirmed Mark’s connection, I filed for divorce, seeking full custody. Mark didn’t contest; perhaps he realized the damage was done.
Years have passed, and Sam is my world. People ask if I regret keeping him, knowing he was my husband’s son with another woman. I don’t hesitate to answer: Sam is my son. The strength of a mother’s love goes beyond biology or betrayal.