At my husband’s funeral, my life turned upside down when I saw an old woman holding a baby in her arms. She claimed it was the child of the late Patrick. Could it really be true? Or was Nancy about to uncover something even more shocking?
She stood by the fresh grave, still unable to believe Patrick was gone. He’d died in a car crash. A week had passed, but part of her heart still clung to the hope that this was all just a terrible dream. How could this have happened?
With a heavy heart, she began walking toward the cemetery gate, forcing herself to think about how to keep living. Suddenly, an elderly woman stood in her path, holding a baby.
«Are you Nancy?» the stranger asked, while the baby whimpered softly.
Nancy stared at her—the woman was a complete stranger.
«Yes. Who are you?» she asked warily.
Nancy’s heart started to race when the woman introduced herself as Amanda and calmly said the child in her arms was Patrick’s daughter.
«You’re the only one who can take care of her now. Her mother… can’t do it,» Amanda added softly.
Nancy’s whole body went cold. She looked at the baby and instinctively took a step back.
«No! That’s impossible! Patrick was a loyal husband. He would never do something like this!»
Spinning around, she walked away. In her mind, Patrick was still perfect. No betrayal. No secrets.
«Watch out!» she suddenly heard.
She nearly bumped into Mike, an old friend of Patrick’s. She’d been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t even seen him.
Mike expressed his condolences. Nancy wasn’t in the mood for talking, but she tried to be polite. After a short exchange, she quickly walked to her car.
But she couldn’t shake the image of the baby. She tried to brush it off, but when she opened the car door, she nearly screamed—the baby was lying on the back seat, quietly crying.
Nancy looked around—Amanda was gone.
«How did it get here?» she whispered, turning pale.
It was chilly outside. She took off her jacket and wrapped the baby. Then she froze. Around the baby’s neck was a birthmark—exactly like the one Patrick had.
«Could it really be true?» she murmured.
She didn’t want to believe her husband had cheated. But now, she needed the truth. She had to find out if Patrick really was the father.
Nancy drove home, grabbed Patrick’s comb with his hair still in it, and went to the hospital.
«Hello, I’d like to request a paternity test,» she told the receptionist.
«Okay, the results will be ready in a few days,» the woman replied.
«Can it be faster? I’m willing to pay more.»
«There is an express option. Let me check. But it’s more expensive.»
«That’s fine,» Nancy nodded and handed over the samples.
Sitting in the hallway, she tried to calm the baby, who had started crying again. The diaper was dry. She must be hungry, Nancy thought. While waiting, she went to the supermarket and bought baby formula, a bottle, and diapers.
When she returned to the hospital, she sat in the hallway and fed the baby. Time seemed to crawl. Finally, a nurse appeared with an envelope.
«Thank you,» Nancy said, taking the results.
«I’ll accept the truth, whatever it is,» she thought, opening the envelope.
Her eyes widened: «Probability of paternity — 99%.»
Nancy looked down at the sleeping baby in her arms. Tears welled up. Patrick had lied. He’d lived a double life.
But Nancy decided she wouldn’t let things end like this. She would find the child’s mother and return the baby.
Back home, she began searching through Patrick’s belongings. Nothing pointed to a mistress. She went to his office—again, nothing. Frustrated, she got into his car and checked everything—glove box, under the seats, every corner. Nothing.
Nancy’s life had changed forever the day of Patrick’s funeral, when she’d seen an old woman holding a baby near his grave. That woman had claimed the child was his daughter. Was it a lie? Or just the beginning of an even more painful truth?
Nancy stood on the cold cemetery ground, staring at the place where her husband had just been buried. She still couldn’t believe he was gone—a brutal crash had taken his life. A week had passed, yet part of her still clung to the illusion that he might walk through the door.
Pulling herself together, she began to leave. She needed to start anew, somehow keep going. But suddenly, in front of her stood that elderly woman, baby in arms, hands trembling, the infant whimpering softly.
«Are you Nancy?» the woman asked.
«Yes. Who are you?» Nancy stopped, her voice cautious.
«My name is Amanda. This… is Patrick’s child,» she said. «Her mother can’t raise her. Only you can.»
«What are you talking about?» Nancy’s voice was edged with irritation. «That’s impossible! My husband would never cheat!» She turned and walked away.
At the cemetery gate, she nearly ran into Patrick’s old friend Mike. He offered his condolences, but Nancy didn’t feel like talking. She politely said goodbye and headed for her car. But when she opened the door, she froze—the same baby was lying on the back seat, crying. Amanda had vanished.
Nancy instinctively took off her coat and wrapped the baby. As she leaned closer, she saw a birthmark on the child’s neck—identical to Patrick’s. Her world shattered.
At home, she found Patrick’s comb, collected the hair, and brought the sample to a clinic.
«I need a paternity test,» she said at reception. «Urgent, please. I’ll pay anything.»
While waiting, she bought baby food and diapers. Finally, she received the results: «Probability of paternity — 99%.» Her hands shook. Patrick had betrayed her. But she had to act—she had to find the mother and return the child.
Back home, Nancy combed through Patrick’s things—nothing. At his office—again, nothing. But then she checked the car’s GPS. One address kept showing up—unfamiliar to her.
A few hours later, she stood outside a small house and knocked. No answer. She turned to the neighbors. A familiar figure opened the door—Amanda.
«You?» Nancy asked, stunned.
«How did you find me?»
«I wanted to find my husband’s other woman—to give her the baby.»
Amanda sighed.
«Her name was Emma. She died a few days ago. Heart attack. She couldn’t bear the news of Patrick’s death.»
«Emma?» Nancy whispered. «You said… Emma Warren?»
«Yes. You knew her?»
«We were classmates…»
They sat down, and Nancy began to talk.
Twenty years ago…
«I’m in love with someone else, Nancy,» Patrick had said in the school hallway. «I’m sorry.»
His words broke her. She ran home in tears.
«I won’t let them be together!» she told her mother.
«Don’t destroy someone else’s happiness,» her mother said gently.
But Nancy wanted revenge. She spread rumors, told lies. When that didn’t work, she told Patrick:
«I’m pregnant.»
It was a lie. But he believed her. He left Emma. Emma, heartbroken, moved away with her parents.
Later, Nancy claimed there had been a mistake with the test. She and Patrick stayed together—but there was no happiness.
«I lied. And now I want to make things right,» Nancy said, looking at the child in her arms.
«What are you going to do?» Amanda asked.
«I’ll raise her. As my daughter. Maybe then I’ll earn forgiveness.»
Nancy kept her promise. Katherine grew up loved. On her 16th birthday, Nancy told her the truth.
«I was afraid you’d hate me,» she admitted.
But Katherine smiled.
«You were always there, Mom. And you always will be.»
Nancy cried. Those words felt like true forgiveness—from her daughter, and maybe even from Emma and Patrick.
