So, let me tell you what happened, mate. A few years back, I found out my girlfriend was expecting, so I did the proper thing and married her. After the wedding, we moved in with my parents there was no way we could afford a place of our own at the time. Life just sort of carried on, and before I knew it, I was a dad to the most amazing little boy.
Not too long after, we decided to get a mortgage, hoping to finally get our own little place. Things were busy but good. Then my wife told me we were having another baby and soon enough, little Emily arrived. The kids grew up so quickly, honestly. But as the years went by, I couldnt help but notice neither of the kids looked like me. Or my wife, to be perfectly honest. Both of them had bright ginger hair and freckles, and neither of us have that in the family. I mean, where did that even come from?
This nagging thought started to eat at me what if I wasnt actually their dad? I know, it wasnt my proudest moment, but I couldnt shake the feeling, and in the end I caved and got a paternity test. I just needed to know without a doubt they were mine.
I waited a couple of weeks for the results, bouncing off the walls the whole time. As soon as the lab rang, I shot off to pick up the paperwork. Thank God, they were mine. I truly was their dad. When I got home, I stashed the documents away so my wife wouldnt find them. Dont ask me why I didnt just bin them, but that was my mistake, and I paid for it.
A few days later, she somehow found them and went absolutely mad proper screaming match, the lot. I totally get why she was so hurt, but things just spiralled out of control. She said she could never forgive me, and that was that. She left, and I havent seen my kids since its been five years now.
Its mad how just one little doubt managed to take everything away from me. I still hope, deep down, shell forgive me one day and maybe let me be part of their lives again.
