A year ago, my wife got a better job, so we packed up and moved to another city. Our 7-year-old boy, Derril, is crazy about soccer, so she made sure to get him into a school with a strong soccer program.
At first, he seemed excited. But after a while, I noticed little changes. He came home quiet, withdrawn, sometimes even upset. Whenever I tried to talk to him, he’d just shrug and walk away.
Then, just a few days ago, I found him crying in his room. My heart broke.
“Derril, what’s wrong, buddy?” I asked softly.
He looked up at me, red-eyed, and shouted through tears:
“I DON’T WANT MR. SANDERS TO BE MY FATHER!”
I froze. Mr. Sanders was his soccer coach. My chest tightened.
“What do you mean, son? Why would he be your father?” I asked, trying to stay calm.
Derril sniffled, then whispered something that sent a chill through me:
“Because Mommy said she loves him more than you.”
My whole world stopped.
I didn’t want to believe it, but kids don’t just invent things like that. That night, when my wife was in the shower, I checked her phone. My hands were shaking as I opened her messages.
And there it was. Message after message between her and Coach Sanders—flirty, romantic, intimate. Plans to “be together soon.”
My son hadn’t misunderstood. He knew the truth before I did.
The worst part? He was carrying that secret all alone, terrified his family was about to be torn apart.
