The Pain of Regret

The clock on the bedside table flashed 4.26 p.m. Though it was winter, Meredith’s forehead was drenched in sweat. And not because of the heavy jacket she wore, or the thirty-minute walk from the metro to her home. Rather, her nervousness was solely due to the letter she now held in her hands. At last it was time to find out if her child — her precious baby boy, Carl — was truly her husband’s.