Van looked directly into my new bride’s eyes

My new wife, Elena, narrowed her eyes. She was a woman of business, sharp and intolerant of ambiguity. “That doesn’t answer the question, Van. If you’re here to cause a scene, at least be direct. Who is the father?”

Van didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached into her elegant silk clutch and pulled out a folded piece of paper, yellowed slightly at the edges. She didn’t hand it to Elena; she laid it flat on the head table, right next to our five-tier wedding cake.

“Before I answer that, you should read this,” Van said, looking at me. Her gaze felt like a physical weight. “Do you remember the ‘vitamin’ supplements I used to give you during our second year of marriage, Minh? The ones you threw in the trash when you thought I wasn’t looking?”

I felt the blood drain from my face. My hands began to tremble.

“I didn’t just give you vitamins,” Van continued, her voice dropping to a whisper that felt louder than a scream. “I took the liberty of taking a sample of your DNA to a private clinic back then. I was desperate. I thought I was the problem. I thought my body was broken because I couldn’t give the man I ‘loved’ a child. I spent nights crying, praying, visiting every temple in the city. And all that time, you let me drown in that guilt.”