One simple question from my neighbor’s son sent my life spiraling in a direction I never could have predicted. What I discovered about my husband left me reeling, and I knew my world was about to change forever.
It was just a regular Saturday. I was in the yard, knee-deep in weeds, soaking in the warm afternoon sun, when I noticed Dylan, my neighbor Lisa’s son, making his way up the driveway. Dylan was about nine or ten, a quiet but determined kid who rarely asked for anything. Today, though, he looked different—nervous, with his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes cast downward.
“Hey, Ms. Taylor,” he mumbled when he stopped a few feet away. Normally, he was more outgoing, so his shy demeanor immediately grabbed my attention.
I wiped the dirt from my hands and smiled. “Hey, Dylan! Everything okay?”
He shifted on his feet, still avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, um… sorry to bother you, but can I swim in your pool for a little while?”
It was an innocent enough request, but it took me by surprise. Dylan had never asked to swim in my pool before, although the neighborhood kids often did during the summer. With his mom gone a lot, he spent most of his time alone, so I figured he just wanted something to do.
“Of course,” I said, glancing at the pool. “It’s warm today. You’ll feel better cooling off. Want some lemonade?”
He smiled faintly and shook his head. “No, thanks.”
I watched him walk over to the pool, spreading out his towel on one of the loungers. There was something off about the way he was acting, though I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I shrugged it off, reminding myself that he was just a kid.
I decided to get him a glass of lemonade anyway, figuring he might change his mind. As I walked back outside, I saw him removing his shirt—and that’s when everything changed.
I froze, the glass slipping from my hand and shattering at my feet. My heart pounded, and I could hardly breathe.
There, on Dylan’s back, was a birthmark. A large, irregular shape just below his shoulder blade. It was exactly the same as the one my husband had—a distinct, rare mark in the same place, the same shape. My mind raced. How could this be?
My husband had always joked about how unique his birthmark was, like some blotched star. Now, here it was, on a boy who lived next door. My stomach churned, and I felt as though I had stepped into a nightmare.
“Dylan,” I called, trying to keep my voice steady.
He looked up from the pool, water dripping off his hair. “Yeah?”
I pointed toward his back, struggling to stay calm. “That birthmark… how long have you had it?”
He blinked, confused by the question. “Since I was a baby, I guess. My mom said I’ve always had it. Why?”
I forced a smile. “No reason. Just curious.”
Dylan shrugged and went back to swimming, blissfully unaware of the storm swirling inside me. I couldn’t process what I had just seen. My husband’s birthmark, on another child—Lisa’s child. I turned away quickly, my mind racing. How was this possible?
That evening, I couldn’t sit still. I paced the living room, my heart pounding as I chewed on my nails. My husband, oblivious to my inner turmoil, called out from the kitchen.
“Taylor, are you okay? You’ve been pacing for ages.”
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