As the hours passed, the hospital room filled with visits from well-wishers—friends and family who cooed over our newborn and brought laughter and warmth. But beneath the surface, I was distracted, replaying the morning’s events over and over.

Later that evening, after everyone had left and our son had fallen asleep, I sat with David in the quiet of the hospital room. I needed to know, to put this unease to rest.

“David,” I began cautiously, “how do you know Michael?”

David paused, his hand frozen mid-reach for his water bottle. He sighed, a shadow passing over his face. “Rachel, there are things about my past that I haven’t shared. Not because I wanted to hide them, but because they’re part of a life I left behind.”

“What kind of life?” I pressed gently, my heart pounding.

“I used to be involved in… things I’m not proud of,” he admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “Michael and I crossed paths back then. But that’s behind me now. I swear.”

His confession hung in the air, a heavy weight between us. I wanted to believe him, to trust the man who had stood by me, who had promised to build a future with me. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and I couldn’t ignore it.

“Please, Rachel,” David said, reaching for my hand. “I love you. I’m not that man anymore.”

I nodded, but inside, I knew this was just the beginning. Michael’s warning echoed in my mind. I would need to find out who David reallywas—the whole truth.