The day my daughter Sarah was born should have been the happiest moment of our lives. But instead of celebrating, my husband Alex took one look at her and immediately questioned whether she was really his. He insisted on a paternity test, and though it broke my heart, I agreed—I had nothing to hide.
As we waited for the results, Alex grew cold and distant. The worst part? His mother actually threatened me, saying she’d make my life miserable if the test didn’t prove he was the father. That’s when I realized just how little trust there was in our marriage.
When the results came back confirming Alex was Sarah’s father, I expected relief—maybe even an apology. Instead, I just felt numb. He said he was sorry, but by then, the damage was done. Then, while going through his phone (something I’d never done before), I found the real reason for his suspicion: texts between him and a coworker, revealing a months-long affair.
That was the final straw. I filed for divorce, and with evidence of his infidelity, the court ruled in my favor—I got the house, the car, and full custody with child support. By the time Alex came home to talk, I was already gone.
