My husband stood beside me, tears in his eyes as he looked at our child.
“He’s beautiful,” he said softly.
I studied his face—too carefully. Looking for any sign of doubt, suspicion, anything at all.
But there was nothing.
Only love.
Later that day, he offered to take care of the paperwork.
“I’ll handle the birth certificate,” he said gently. “You just focus on resting.”
I agreed, relieved to avoid thinking any further.
But then he was gone.
At first, I didn’t worry. Hospitals are busy, and time passes strangely in them. But as hours went by, a quiet unease began to settle in.
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