— I submitted a DNA test, and it came back with an eighty-one percent match, — says my husband’s brother.
I haven’t even had time to understand what it means, but my heart starts pounding faster.
— How is that even possible?
— It happens only between very close people, Lena. But definitely not between a child and his biological father.
— That’s nonsense… Wait, I don’t understand anything.
My thoughts start to tangle; there’s no air.
— So Vitja did Danka’s DNA to your Irka, — he says with hatred through his teeth. — Your husband, my own brother, is the father of the boy I’ve been calling my own for fifteen years.
Trouble doesn’t always unite—sometimes it destroys a family completely. That happened to me: in an instant, twenty-five years that seemed like a happy marriage crumbled to dust. My nephew’s illness brought out the terrible truth my husband and sister-in-law had been hiding for years. My husband cheated on me—with the wife of his brother. And now there won’t be any shared old age, no family holidays, and no former life—because they destroyed everything that had been built for decades. Ahead are only divorce and hate.