“I’m saying maybe we need to consider every option.”
“What option?”
He hesitated.
And I knew.
My stomach turned.
“Say it.”
“Maya.”
“Say it.”
“What if the court decides—”
“I’m asking what you want.”
He looked away.
That hurt more than if he had shouted.
“You want Leah.”
“I want my daughter.”
“And Caleb?”
“I love Caleb.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
His jaw tightened.
“They were switched.”
“They are not suitcases, Darius.”
“I know that.”
“You’re talking like somebody put the wrong luggage tags on two bags and now we exchange them at customer service.”
“That is not fair.”
“No.
You know what isn’t fair?
Our son wondering whether his father still loves him because his DNA came back wrong.”
“He isn’t my biological—”
Darius stopped.
Too late.
The words had escaped.
And behind us, the bedroom door creaked.
Caleb stood there.
Barefoot.
His face empty.
