The next day, he sat in his car outside the office, hands gripping the steering wheel. Should he confront her? Ask outright, risk everything? The thought terrified him. Instead, he googled: “home DNA test kit discreet.” Within minutes, one was on its way, promise of answers boxed in shipping.
He told no one. Not Claire, not even his closest friend. At work, he nodded through meetings, numbers dancing meaninglessly across his screen. Every passing hour stretched longer. At night, he forced laughter at his sons’ jokes, but his eyes lingered on them like he was memorizing strangers.