The First Child Ep. 6

James had the proof he thought he wanted. The DNA result was clear. The baby was not his. Emily had cheated. Emily had lied. Emily had betrayed him.

But even with the paper in his hand, James found no peace.

Emily was gone. She had left the house with the child, leaving behind silence and emptiness. Days turned into nights, and nights into days, yet James could not sleep well. He would lie in bed, staring at the empty space beside him, wondering how everything had collapsed so quickly.

He had proof that the baby was not his, but his heart was restless. He loved Emily, even after everything. He had prayed with her, dreamed with her, and laughed with her. He could not erase all of that in one moment.

If she cheated, why didn’t she explain? Why did she refuse to defend herself when confronted with the DNA result? Why did she simply cry, pack her bags, and leave?

The questions tormented him.

One evening, after pacing the house endlessly, James walked into Emily’s room. It was the room where she had kept most of her clothes and personal belongings. The wardrobe was nearly empty now, but a few things were still left behind.

He began to search through the drawers, desperate for something—anything—that could give him answers. He pulled open one drawer and found some folded clothes, an old scarf, and a small diary.

He froze.

Slowly, he picked up the diary. It was plain, with a soft brown cover. He flipped through the pages, his eyes scanning the words written in Emily’s familiar handwriting. Most of the pages were filled with short notes—shopping lists, prayers, random thoughts.

But then he saw it.

On one page, the writing was longer, almost like a letter. His eyes caught the first line, and his breath stopped.

It read: “I don’t know how to live with this secret.”

James sat down heavily on the bed, clutching the diary with both hands. He read on, his eyes moving quickly across the page.

“It happened on a night when James was not home. He had traveled for work, and I was alone in the house. I will never forget that night. Someone broke into the house. I thought he came to steal, but it was worse. He for. Cede himself to me. I screamed, but nobody came. I fought, but he was stronger. He did what he wanted and left me broken on the floor.”

“I wanted to tell James, but I could not. I was ashamed. I was afraid he would look at me differently. I thought if I stayed silent, I could bury the memory and move on.”

“Weeks later, I missed my period. I went to the hospital and learned I was pregnant. My world collapsed. I prayed every night that the baby would belong to James. I begged God that somehow, it would be his child. I convinced myself it was possible, because James and I had been trying to have a child for so long.”

“When the baby came and I saw the skin color, my heart broke. I knew what it meant. But how could I explain this to James? How could I tell him that another man, a man who forced himself on me, was the father of the baby I carried for nine months? I could not bring myself to say the words.”

“So I stayed silent. I kept hoping the truth would remain hidden. But now I feel trapped. I don’t know how long I can continue living this lie. If James ever finds out, I don’t know what will happen to us. I love him too much, but I don’t know how to face him.”

James stopped reading. The diary slipped slightly in his hands as his eyes stayed fixed on the words.

His body felt heavy. The room felt smaller, tighter. He read the lines again, each word cutting into him like a knife.

Emily had not cheated. She had been attacked. She had been forced.

The baby was not his, but not because of betrayal. It was because of violence. Because of a night she had tried to bury in silence.

He thought of the times he accused her, shouted at her, demanded answers. He thought of the times she stayed quiet, her face full of pain. He had mistaken her silence for guilt when in reality it was shame.

James closed the diary slowly. His hands trembled slightly as he placed them on the bed. He sat there, staring at the floor, unable to move, unable to think clearly.

The truth was heavier than the lie.

Emily had carried this pain alone, while he accused her of sleeping with another man. She had endured his anger, his rejection, his coldness. And instead of explaining, she had chosen to leave with the baby, carrying her secret with her.

Now, James had the truth.

But Emily was gone.