It Was Christmas When My Wife Died Giving Birth – Ten Years Later, a Stranger Came to My Door with a Devastating Demand

His voice was small, and for the first time, he didn’t sound his age.

He sounded younger, like the boy who used to crawl into my bed after a nightmare.

“It means that I’m the one who stayed,” I said gently. “And the one who knows you better than anyone ever could.”

“Yes,” I said. “But I got to raise you.

And I got to watch you grow. I got to be your dad.”

“You’ll always be my dad?” he asked.

He didn’t say anything else — he just leaned into me, his arms wrapping around my middle. We stayed like that, holding on.

“You’ll need to meet him, okay?” I said.

“You don’t have to be friends or family, but maybe one day, you’ll grow to like him…”

“Okay, Dad,” he said.

“I’ll try.”

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