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As I got out of the car, my pulse quickened. My palms started sweating. Tears formed in my eyes.
I just got back from the doctor. He confirmed it. Pregnant. And it wasn’t my husband’s.

I walked to the door, hands shaking, fumbling for keys.

I let myself in. I heard whistling from the kitchen. As I walked in, I saw my daughter, Carol, coloring at the dining room table, looking nervous. My husband, Peter seemed to be washing the dishes by hand. I watched as a plate was lifted, wiped, and put down.

“Hey sweetie,” I heard Peter say as another plate was set down. “How was your day?”

“Carol, can you go upstairs please?” I asked. Carol gave me a brief nod, and bolted out of the room.

“Is something wrong?” Peter asked, concern in his voice.

When I was sure Carol was out of earshot, I turned to Peter’s voice. “I’m pregnant.”

“But….that…isn’t….possible.” I heard Peter say, confused. “Wait….unless….”

Those last words were spoken in anger, and I felt a hand close around my throat and slam me against the kitchen wall.

“You slut! You cheated on me?!”

“No!” I cried. “I never cheated! I was always faithful to you!”

“Then how?!” I could feel my feet lifting of the ground as I was forced up against the wall.

“I fulfilled my vows! Til death do us part!” I cried. I felt a tremble, then heard a sob. I dropped to the ground, curling into a ball and crying.

I heard one more sob, then nothing. I felt an emptiness around me. I think Peter finally moved on.


Credits to: KMApok

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