“I’ve been thinking about divorce,” she said quietly.
“Divorce?” I repeated, unable to process the word. “No, please.
We can work this out. We can go to therapy, anything.”
“How can I stay with someone who didn’t trust me? Who was willing to risk our son’s sense of security because of his own insecurities?” She wiped her eyes.
“What if Aidan finds out someday that his own father doubted he was his? Do you know what that could do to him?”
“I’ll never let him know,” I promised. “Please, Jules, give me a chance to make this right.”
“You don’t get it, do you?
This isn’t about the test results,” she shook her head. “It’s about what you were willing to risk. Our marriage, our family’s stability, and our son’s sense of belonging.
All because you couldn’t trust me.”
I spent the next three days sleeping on the couch, trying to figure out how to fix what I’d broken.
Meanwhile, the kids noticed something was wrong. Liam asked why Mom’s eyes were always red, and Aidan kept trying to make us laugh at dinner. Even baby Owen seemed fussier than usual.
Finally, Julia agreed to try couples therapy, but with a condition.
“If this doesn’t work, I’m leaving,” she said firmly.
“I won’t live in a marriage without trust. And Gerald? Even if I stay, I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for this.”
So here we are, sitting in a therapist’s office twice a week, trying to rebuild what my doubts destroyed.
I guess Julia was right. The DNA test results don’t matter anymore.
The real damage wasn’t about biology. It was about trust.
The therapist says healing takes time, but I wonder if some wounds go too deep to heal.
I thought taking that test would give me peace of mind.
Instead, it taught me that some questions are better left unasked, and some doubts can destroy the very thing you’re trying to protect.
Source: amomama
