When another nurse finally waved me in, my heart was thudding loudly.
“She needs a minute, sir.”
Anna was there, hospital lights harsh above her, clutching two tiny bundles hidden behind their blankets. Her whole body was shaking.
“Anna?” I rushed over. “Are you okay? Is it the pain? Must I call someone?”
She didn’t look up; she just squeezed the babies closer to her.
“Don’t look at our babies, Henry!” Her voice broke on the words, and then she was sobbing so hard I thought she might fall apart.
“Anna, talk to me. Please. You’re scaring me. What happened?”
She shook her head, rocking the babies like she could shield them from the world. “I can’t… I don’t know — I just don’t —”
“Don’t look at our babies, Henry!”
I knelt beside her, reaching for her arm. “Anna, whatever it is, we’ll handle it. Now, show me my boys.”
With shaking hands, she finally loosened her grip.
“Look, Henry,” she whispered.
I did. And I went still.
Josh: pale, pink-cheeked, looked like me.
But Raiden: dark curls, Anna’s eyes… and deep brown skin.
“Now, show me my boys.”
“I only love you,” Anna sobbed. “They’re your babies, Henry! I swear. I don’t know how this happened! I’ve never looked at another man that way! I didn’t cheat!”
I stared at our sons, speechless, as Anna fell apart beside me. I knelt by the bed, hands shaking, searching my wife’s face for anything I could anchor to.
“Anna, look at me, love. I believe you. We’re going to figure this out, okay? I’m right here.”
