My husband and I had been living together for three years, but we didn’t have any children. The doctors said there was nothing wrong with me, but my husband refused to get tested. One day, he confessed that he had another woman and that she was pregnant. I no longer wanted to save our marriage. In that state, I couldn’t work and needed some time off. On my way home, I couldn’t hold back and started crying.

Suddenly, I noticed a little boy who was also crying. He told me he had run away from home and didn’t want to go back: his mother was seeing different men and was lying to one of them that she was pregnant with his child. I told him why I was crying too, and I invited him in for some tea. I said he should go back to his mother — she must be worried about him. While I was washing my hands, the boy was looking at the pictures on the wall.

It turned out that the man the boy’s mother was lying to — was my husband. Saying I was in shock would mean nothing. I asked him where his father was; he said he lived in a village with his grandmother. I decided to take the boy to his father. I told him the whole story, and the man gladly accepted his son.

Then I went to the boy’s mother. I told her everything. I said that if she didn’t let the boy see his father, I would tell my husband everything. She agreed.

Years passed. The boy’s father and I got married — and now we are expecting our own child. I am very happy.