She got pregnant.
Neither of them had money or stable families.
Rebecca wanted adoption. Ben resisted at first.
Then reality caught up.
Lily was born when he was 19.
Rebecca chose a couple through a private adoption agency.
The adoption was closed.
Ben signed.
Then spent years wondering whether he’d made the worst decision of his life.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.”
“When?”
“Before we got married.”
I stared.
“No, you didn’t.”
“I tried three times.”
“You never said, ‘Claire, I have a daughter.'”
“No.”
“Then you didn’t try.”
He looked down.
Years earlier, during our engagement, Ben had once told me there was something in his past he was ashamed of.
I apparently joked:
“Unless you’re secretly married or have a child somewhere, we’ll survive.”
I remembered saying it.
Ben said, “I froze.”
“Then you lied for 12 years.”
“Yes.”
I pointed at the photographs.
“How do you have these?”
