Three days before Robert passed away, he gave me a small wooden box.
“Margaret, promise me you won’t open this until the day you feel that something impossible is happening in your life.”
At the time, I thought my husband was delirious from his illness.
But I kept the box in our bedroom closet.
For twelve years, I never opened it.
Then, six months ago, when my belly first began growing, I remembered his words.
That night, I took out the box.
Inside was a letter and an old photograph.
In the photograph, Robert was standing beside a man I had never seen before.
My hands began trembling as I read the first line of the letter.
“Margaret, if you’re reading this, then the day I’ve feared has finally arrived. There’s something I’ve hidden from you throughout our entire marriage.”
He went on to explain that many years ago, he had participated in a medical research program without ever telling me.
