I didn’t need him to agree with every sentence.

I needed him to stop treating my choice as temporary confusion.

That afternoon I spoke with Marisol about the strange sorrow of learning the child might not be Kenneth’s.

She listened thoughtfully.

“You expected to feel vindicated,” she said.

“I expected something to make sense.

Instead there’s a little boy who may lose someone he thinks is his father.”

“That’s painful.