And now that there was this whole thing about the baby? As I opened the door, my stomach dropped. The baby, Amanda’s granddaughter or whoever she was, was lying in the back seat, crying her little heart out.
A baby crying in a car | Source: Midjourney
I spun around, looking for some sign of the woman, but she was gone.
This can’t be happening.
It was so cold, so I wrapped the baby in my shawl and cuddled her to stop her crying. As she squirmed in my arms, I saw that she had a little birthmark on her neck. The birthmark was exactly like Patrick’s.
Desperate for answers, I took the baby home. I didn’t know what else to do, but there was no way that I could just keep a baby here. So, I ran upstairs with the baby and pulled strands of hair from Patrick’s hairbrush.
A hairbrush on a vanity | Source: Midjourney
Then, I drove to the nearest hospital. I couldn’t believe some stranger’s story, nor could I believe a birthmark. I needed proof.
When the results came back, I felt like my world collapsed.
Paternity rate: 99%.
I stood there, holding the test results, numb. Patrick had lied, and worse, he’d had a child with another woman.
A woman standing in a hospital | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t raise this child, this reminder of Patrick’s betrayal. I searched his belongings over the next few days, determined to find the baby’s mother, and I eventually stumbled across an address saved repeatedly on his GPS.
I arrived at the address, dreading what I’d find. But when the door opened, there stood Amanda. Her expression was wary, as if she’d been expecting me all along.
“You!” I gasped when she opened the door.
An older woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
She nodded, looking away.
“Her mother, Emma… she passed away recently, Nancy. Patrick was all this child had left.”
“Emma?” I repeated.