After years of waiting, trying, and praying, Elena and I were finally going to become parents.

I couldn’t wait for the moment I would hold our baby in my arms, but when that day finally arrived,

I was met with shock and disbelief.

“Honey,” Elena said one day, “I think I want to be all by myself in the delivery room.”

Her words weren’t something I expected to hear. Why wouldn’t she want me there,

I wondered. But she said she needed to do it alone, so I agreed.

A couple of days later, we went to the hospital. I kissed Elena at the

entrance to the maternity ward and all I could do was wait.

Finally, the doctor emerged, but the expression on his face said something was wrong.

As I headed to Elena’s room, my heart plummeted.

I felt relieved when I saw Elena was fine.

She had our baby in her arms, but her usually bubbly demeanor was nowhere to be seen.

She looked at me straight in the eyes and showed me our baby girl.

The little one had pale skin, blue eyes, and blonde hair. My heart dropped. “YOU CHEATED!” I yelled.

“Marcus, I can explain,” Elena said as she tried to grab my hand.

My world spun. Both she and I are two black people, and our child was white.

She tried to convince me that baby was ours, but I couldn’t understand how that could be.

“Don’t lie to me, Elena, this couldn’t be my girl. I’m not an idiot,” I screamed from the top of my lungs.