My husband announced that he was leaving for a week-long business trip to England. He urged me to stay home and rest, insisting there was no need to visit his parents in the countryside. Yet that day, my instincts told me differently, so I took the bus and decided to surprise my in-laws. As soon as I entered the gate, what struck me first wasn’t my mother-in-law’s warm smile, nor my father-in-law’s slender figure sweeping the yard. What froze me in place was the sight of an entire row of baby diapers hanging from clotheslines. Some carried yellow stains, others boron traces of milk. I stood rooted, unable to move. My in-laws were well into their sixties – far too old to have a baby. None of our relatives had left a child with them either. Then… whose diapers were these? I stepped inside trembling. The house was unusually quiet, but a faint aroma of baby formula lingered. On the table lay a half-empty feeding bottle. My chest tightened, thoughts clashing in my mind. Could my husband be keeping something from me? Then, from the old bedroom my husband and I always used when visiting, came the cry of a baby. I rushed there, my hands shaking as I fumbled with the lock. The moment the door swung open, I saw a newborn on the bed, flailing tiny arms and legs, while my mother-in-law hurriedly altered her clothes. She paled at the sight of me, as if the blood drained from her face. Stammering, I asked: — Mom… whose baby is this? Her hands trembled, her eyes darted away, and she whispered faintly: — Please don’t hate us… this child carries the bl00d of our family. My body went numb. My husband’s excuses, his strange trips, her escapes… everything destroyed together in my head. Continued on next page:

My husband announced he was going to England for a week on a business trip. He urged me to stay home and rest, saying there was no need to visit his parents in the countryside. But that day, my gut told me otherwise. So I took the bus and decided to surprise my in-laws.

As I stepped through the gate, I didn’t notice my mother-in-law’s warm smile or my father-in-law’s slim figure sweeping the yard. What stopped me in my tracks was the sight of a row of baby diapers hanging on clotheslines. Some had yellow stains, others traces of milk.
I stood rooted to the spot, unable to move. My in-laws were well over sixty—far too old to have a baby. None of our relatives had ever left a child with them either. So whose diapers were they? Trembling, I entered the house. It was unusually quiet, but there was a faint scent of baby food in the air. A half-full baby bottle sat on the table. My chest tightened, thoughts swirling in my head. Was my husband hiding something from me?

Then, from the old bedroom my husband and I always used when we visited, came the sound of a baby crying. I rushed there, my hands trembling as I fumbled with the lock. As soon as the door swung open, I saw a newborn on the bed, kicking its tiny arms and legs, while my mother-in-law hurriedly changed its clothes.

She paled at the sight of me, as if the blood had drained from her face. I stammered, “What do you mean?”

– Mommy… whose baby is this?

Her hands trembled, her gaze flickered away, and she whispered softly:

 

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