Don’t Look at Me Like That! I Don’t Need This Baby. Just Take It!” – The Mysterious Woman Thrust the Baby Carrier Into My Hands, Leaving Me Bewildered.

Dont look at me like that! I dont want this baby if it doesnt want to be with me. Take it away! the stranger hurls, thrusting a baby carrier into my hand. I have no idea whats happening.

My husband Thomas and I have always lived in harmony. We barely argue, and I try to be a proper wife and housewife. We marry while studying at university, then I become pregnant and we have twins. When the children are older we start a small business together. I only help Thomas occasionally because I have to look after the kids and run the household, and I love cooking.

Thomas always expects me to make him something delicious on the weekend. I keep trying to invent a new dish each time, and he is the chief tastetester. The kids are always curious about what Mum will be cooking that day. With all the hassles the children, the housework, the business I never pay much attention to what Thomas does. I never imagined he could cheat on me. The truth is that the past year has been tough. The firm is struggling, and Thomas and I scrimp what we can. He even has to travel around the country signing new supply contracts. The twins are in Year1, so I stay home with them.

One afternoon, as Thomas and I drive home from work, a beautiful woman steps out of a sleek black Mercedes and approaches me, pressing a pram into my hands.

Dont stare at me! I dont want this child if it isnt meant for me. Take it away! she yells, pointing a shaking finger at Thomas.

I stand frozen, unable to grasp whats going on.

You promised youd leave her and be with me! If you dont, I wont have this child, she spits, turns on her heel and strides away.

For a few minutes I am in shock until I realise I am holding a baby carrier. I havent even asked Thomas; his expression tells me who the woman was and that he would rather collapse than speak. In silence we step into our flat. On the sofa lies a tiny boy in a swaddle, no more than two weeks old.

Pick the kids up from school and buy everything I list for the baby, Thomas mutters, nodding.

Eighteen years have passed since that day. Many of my friends judge me, not understanding why I raised another mans child when I already have two daughters, Lily and Grace.

I never question Thomas about that woman. I raise the boy as my own son. The girls are delighted to have a younger brother. We never hide the truth from him, and when he reaches adulthood we explain the whole story. He takes it with calm acceptance; he never asks for his biological mother. I feel content. I have three wonderful children who love us. My relationship with Thomas has frayed, but he does his best to mend it.

On our son Olivers eighteenth birthday we plan a family celebration. Lily and Grace, now married with their own husbands, intend to attend. We are about to sit down at the table when the doorbell rings. We werent expecting any more guests, and a nervous feeling that has lingered all day proves correct. I open the hallway and see a slender woman who looks strikingly like the one who handed me the baby.

I need to speak with my son, she says.

You have no son here! Thomas and I reply in unison.

Oliver shuts the door in her face, invites everyone to the table, and I feel tears well up. I am grateful for the wonderful son we have, even though he isnt mine by blood.