My life took an unexpected turn when my neighbor’s youngster asked a simple inquiry. What I uncovered about my spouse stunned me, and I knew my life was going to change forever.
It was just a normal Saturday. I was knee-deep in weeds, enjoying the warm afternoon sun, when I observed Dylan, my neighbor Lisa’s kid, walking up the driveway. Dylan was maybe nine or ten years old, a shy but determined youngster who rarely asked for anything. Today, however, he appeared apprehensive, with his hands stuffed into his pockets and his eyes set low.
“Hey, Ms. Taylor,” he murmured as he came to a halt a few feet away. He was usually more talkative, so his quiet manner immediately piqued my interest.
I brushed the dirt off my hands and grinned. “Hello, Dylan! Is everything okay?
He shuffled on his feet while avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, um… sorry to bother you, but can I swim in your pool for a little while?”
It was a harmless request, yet it surprised me. Dylan had never requested to swim in my pool before, although the neighborhood kids did throughout the summer. With his mother frequently away, he spent the most of his time alone, so I assumed he was looking for something to do.
“Of course,” I said, staring toward the pool. “It is warm today. You’ll feel better after cooling off. Do you want some lemonade?
He gave a slight smile and shook his head. “No, thanks.”
I saw him stroll over to the pool and put his towel on one of the loungers. There was something strange about the way he was acting, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I brushed it aside, reminding myself that he was only a child.
I decided to buy him a glass of lemonade nonetheless, in case he changed his mind. As I stepped back outside, I noticed him taking off his shirt—and that’s when everything changed.
I froze, the glass dropping out of my grasp and breaking at my feet. My heart was pounding, and I could barely breathe.
There was a birthmark on Dylan’s back. A huge, uneven shape beneath his shoulder blade. It was identical to the one my spouse had: a unique, unusual mark in the same location and form. My thoughts raced. How can this be?
My spouse had often joked about how distinctive his birthmark was, like a blotched star. Now it was on the lad next door. My stomach churned, and I felt like I’d walked into a nightmare.
“Dylan,” I yelled, attempting to keep my voice calm.
He peered up from the pool, the water trickling from his hair. “Yeah?”
I pointed to his back, trying to remain cool. “That birthmark… how long have you had it?”
He blinked, puzzled by the question. “Since I was a baby, I suppose. My mother stated I’d always had it. Why?”
I faked a grin. “There’s no reason. “Just curious.”
Dylan shrugged and returned to swimming, blissfully ignorant of the fury raging within me. I couldn’t grasp what I’d just witnessed. My husband’s birthmark appears on another child, Lisa’s child. I swiftly looked aside, my thoughts racing. How was this possible?
That evening, I was unable to sit still. I raced around the living room, my pulse racing as I nibbled on my nails. My spouse, unaware of my inner conflict, yelled out from the kitchen.
Taylor, are you okay? “You’ve been pacing for ages.”
I startled when I heard his voice. “Yeah, I am fine.” “Just… thinking.”
He gave me a perplexed look but did not pursue further. I knew I couldn’t face him without proof, but I also couldn’t deny what I had witnessed.
Later that night, when he was in the shower, I acted swiftly. I took his comb off the nightstand, pulled a few strands of his hair loose, and placed them in a plastic bag. The next day, when Dylan returned to swim, I quietly removed a few of his hairs from his towel.
A few days later, I sat at the kitchen table, holding the DNA test results with shaky palms. My pulse pounded as I opened the package, and my breath caught in my throat. The figures looked back at me: 99.9% identical.
I dropped the paper, and my world shattered around me. My husband, whom I trusted, had fathered another kid with the lady who lived next door. I had been innocently living with the lady he had che:a:ted on, seen their son grow up, and had no idea. But I was not going to let it break me. No, I had a plan.
The next weekend, I hosted a “neighborhood BBQ” and invited Lisa and my husband, neither of whom knew the other would be present. I played the model wife, smiling and joking with them while concealing the horrible secret I had discovered.
When the time was right, I made my move. As we sat around the outdoor table, I poured myself a glass of wine, sipped slowly, and placed it down. Then I calmly dropped the bombshell.
“I received the results of a DNA test recently,” I added, my voice calm. “Turns out, there’s something interesting about Dylan.”
The hush that ensued was deafening. My husband’s face turned pale, and Lisa’s fork clattered on her plate. She glanced at me with wide eyes, her speech barely a whisper. “What… what do you mean?”
I offered her a frigid grin. “You know exactly what I mean, Lisa.”
My husband’s palm clenched over his glass, but he remained silent. He knew. He couldn’t persuade himself out of this.
I stood, my voice strong. “Pack your things and leave,” I shouted, looking at my husband. “The house is mine, and I have already spoken with a lawyer. You’re not going to fight me over this.”
He opened his lips in protest, but nothing came out. I wasn’t finished. “Just so you know, I taped this chat. Everyone will know who you are.
His cheeks reddened with terror, but I did not wait for his reaction. I turned away and headed into the house.
Within a week, he was gone—no home, no family, and no reputation. Lisa left shortly after, too humiliated to stay. Dylan, on the other hand, was an innocent child caught in the middle, so I established a trust fund for him, ensuring that his father had no access to it.
In the end, it wasn’t karma that got him, but rather me. And as I saw him drive away for the last time, I felt no grief. I did not feel guilty. I felt peaceful.
The last words he uttered to me were, “Taylor…” “How could you?”
I grinned and said, “How could I? “You tell me.”
