
My wife, Anna, left me with our newborn, Sophie, and a note—no explanation. I raised Sophie alone, doing everything from midnight feedings to doctor visits, all while trying to keep my life together. A year later, Anna returned as if nothing had happened, wanting back into our lives.
Anna had been distant during her pregnancy, and when Sophie was born, she struggled to bond. Then, without warning, Anna disappeared, leaving me alone with a newborn. I had to figure out everything on my own, learning how to care for Sophie while juggling work and exhaustion.
A year later, life started to feel normal. But then, Sophie’s blood test revealed something shocking—she wasn’t mine. Anna admitted she’d had an affair before getting pregnant. She ran out of fear, but now wanted to return, claiming Sophie as her daughter.
I was furious, but I refused to let go of Sophie. She was mine, no matter what. Anna tried to prove herself as a mother, slowly rebuilding our broken family. Though I wasn’t sure I could trust her again, I saw moments of hope that maybe, one day, we could rebuild what we once wanted.
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