“Aileen, don’t send her away,” my husband begs, pressing an all-too-crying bundle to himself.
“Who is this?” I ask, pointing at the baby.
“Her—my daughter.”
Those words set me on fire like heat.
“Take her, Aileen. Make it so she becomes ours.”
For five years we were husband and wife. I went through two unsuccessful attempts at IVF. And when it became clear I wouldn’t have children, he—along with his family—simply threw me out of the house.
And now, once again, he’s on my doorstep—with a request that I take in… his child. His daughter. I’m not going to raise a baby born from his affair.