What I discovered changed how I saw the people closest to me, leaving me wondering how I could possibly cope with the truth.
My best friend, Kelly, had asked me to take care of her 8-year-old son, Thomas. I was more than happy to agree since my husband, Ryan, and I had been talking about starting a family ourselves.
Kelly was only 24, but she’d had Thomas when she was just 16. She had moved from another state after his birth because she was relentlessly bullied at school. She and Thomas had endured a lot together, and I admired her strength and her devotion to her son. But Ryan never cared much for Kelly and couldn’t understand why I was willing to babysit Thomas.
“I just don’t get it,” Ryan said as I packed my bag. I was preparing to stay overnight at Kelly’s place while she attended a work event — her company had rented a cabin out of town. She hadn’t planned to go because she had no one to watch Thomas, but I had encouraged her to take the break while I looked after him.
“Why are you looking after someone else’s kid for free?” he pressed, irritation in his voice.
“Thomas isn’t just some kid. Kelly’s my friend, and I want to help her,” I replied, trying to stay calm.
“Why doesn’t she hire a babysitter?” Ryan asked.
“Not everyone can afford that,” I said, “and besides, would you leave your child overnight with a total stranger?”
“You don’t even know how to take care of kids — you didn’t grow up with younger siblings,” he argued.
“First of all, Thomas isn’t a baby — he’s eight. Second, this is great practice. You’ve said you’re thinking about having a child yourself,” I reminded him.
“Yes, but—”
“But what?” I cut in, wrapping my arms around his neck. “It’s one night. I don’t understand why you’re so worked up. You and Thomas even look a bit alike. Or are you just afraid of being alone without me?” I teased.
Ryan finally smiled. “I married you so I wouldn’t have to be apart from you. And now you want to spend the night with another man?” he joked.
“The man is eight years old,” I laughed, “and you’re grown enough to handle one night on your own.”
He sighed. “Alright, go.”
I kissed him. “I would’ve gone anyway, but thanks for the permission, sir,” I teased, making him roll his eyes before kissing me back.
Twenty minutes later, I parked outside Kelly’s home. Thomas burst out the door and leapt into my arms.
“Hey, champ! Ready for some fun?” I asked.
“Absolutely! We’re not sleeping at all!” he declared.
“I don’t think so,” Kelly said, smiling as she stepped out.
“Oh, Mom…” Thomas groaned.
I winked at him. “He’ll be in bed by nine,” I promised.
Inside, the house smelled warmly of Kelly’s cooking.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate this, Amanda,” she said, hugging me.
“It’s nothing. When was the last time you had a real break?” I asked.
“Don’t,” she said with a mock-serious face.
“I’m happy to do it. Thomas is great,” I told her.
“I hope I feel the same when I get back,” she joked. Then she asked, “How did Ryan take you babysitting?”
“Oddly, he tried to talk me out of it. No idea why,” I shrugged.
“Men,” she muttered knowingly.
“Go already. We’ve got this,” I said, giving her a playful shove toward the door.
“Careful, or I’ll think you’re trying to steal my kid — you can, but only return him after a week,” she laughed.
Rolling my eyes, I waved her off.
Once she was gone, Thomas grinned at me. “Ready for fun?” I asked.
“Yes!”
“What first?”
“Can we play my new game?”
“Of course — show me!”
We spent the next hour laughing over a board game. By evening, after countless games and snacks, I was exhausted. Thomas had fallen asleep beside me on the couch, despite swearing he’d stay up.
Gently, I carried him upstairs. As I laid him in bed, his shirt lifted slightly — and I froze.
A birthmark. Not just any birthmark — one exactly like Ryan’s. My heart began to race. The longer I looked, the more I saw Ryan in Thomas — the nose, the chin… it all fit.
I went downstairs, mind spinning, and slipped the spoon Thomas had used into a bag, placing it in my purse. I hoped I was wrong, but Ryan’s odd reaction earlier — and Kelly’s pointed question — made me doubt it.
I barely slept. The next day, when Kelly returned, I left quickly.
At home, Ryan wasn’t back yet. I gathered strands of his hair from the bathroom floor and headed straight to a clinic. I handed over the spoon and Ryan’s hair for a paternity test. Results would take a week.
That week was torture. Ryan noticed my strange behavior but I dodged his questions, afraid to tell him in case I was wrong.
Then, one evening, I saw the clinic’s email. My hands shook as I opened it.
“Probability of paternity: 99.9%.”
The world tilted.
I immediately texted Kelly to come over. I needed answers.
When she arrived, I sat her and Ryan on the couch, laptop open to the results.
“What’s this?” Kelly asked.
“A paternity test for Thomas and Ryan,” I said.
“WHAT?!” Ryan exploded, standing up. “How did you—?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re Thomas’s father. I want to know how this happened — and why you didn’t tell me.”
“It was eight years ago,” Kelly said quietly.
“Don’t,” Ryan warned.
“So you knew? From the start of our friendship?” I demanded.
Kelly nodded tearfully.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it didn’t matter — you and Ryan were happy, and Thomas and I were fine,” she said.
“It does matter. You both deceived me,” I said, turning to Ryan. “How long have you known?”
“Since I first saw them with you,” he admitted.
“Oh my God…”
“Amanda, it was in high school. I didn’t even know Thomas existed until later,” Kelly said.
“Why not tell me immediately?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“I was afraid of losing you,” Ryan said.
“You’re more likely to lose me because of the lies,” I told him.
“I’m sorry,” Kelly sobbed.
“I can’t believe I missed this,” I said.
“What happens now?” I asked finally.
“In what way?” Ryan asked cautiously.
“Thomas deserves to know his father.”
Ryan began to protest, but I interrupted. “You weren’t there for eight years. It’s time.”
“Do you want me to leave you?” Ryan asked.
“What? No. You’re still my husband — I hope you remain so. But Thomas deserves a dad. Kelly’s done a great job with him.”
Ryan looked to Kelly.
“I don’t mind,” Kelly said softly, “but it has to be gradual.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I’m still furious with both of you, but we’ll figure it out.”
They both looked at me with regret. I knew it would be a long road ahead, but we would face it — step by step — for Thomas’s sake.