**My best friend Kelly (24), who had Thomas at 16 and later moved when she was bullied, asked me to babysit her 8-year-old son. Ryan was skeptical—I had no experience with children and he didn’t understand. I defended my offer, reminding him it was only one night and a chance to practice since we’d been thinking about having kids. He finally let me go.
When I arrived at their cozy, cooking-scented home, Thomas greeted me with excitement. We played games, ate, and watched TV—ultimately exhausting me, but Thomas fell fast asleep. Carrying him to bed, I noticed a birthmark resembling Ryan’s. My heart raced as I realized how many physical similarities there were. I took the ice-cream spoon Thomas used (for DNA) and some of Ryan’s hair, then pushed through a week of anxious waiting for the paternity test.
The result came: 99.9% probability—Ryan is Thomas’s father. I confronted Kelly and Ryan immediately, and Kelly tearfully confirmed it had been that way since high school, kept secret to preserve our happiness. I was devastated by their deception.
Feeling betrayed but clear-headed, I insisted Thomas deserves to know his father, and thought Ryan should step into the role now. Kelly agreed it should happen gradually.**