“Tell me the test wasn’t yours!” he shouted the moment he saw me. His voice cracked on the last word.
I closed the door slowly and set my bag down. I didn’t yell back. I didn’t cry. Something inside me went calm, steady—like the center of a storm.
“It is mine, honey,” I said softly.
His hands curled into fists. “Then who?” he demanded. “Who is he, Emma?”
“There is no one else,” I said, meeting his eyes. “There never has been.”
He laughed bitterly. “Do you expect me to believe that? The doctors said—”
“I know what the doctors said,” I interrupted gently. “And if you want a divorce, I won’t stop you.”
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