My Wife Gets Black Bred

I was finally starting to feel like myself again.

I’d moved out, staying with a friend and crashing on his couch. Tonight, I was out with some friends, drinking in a bar and having a good time. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I ignored it.

I finally checked my phone.

“I’m pregnant,” she’d texted me.

“How is that my problem?” I asked. “You’ve been giving it up to everyone you make eye contact with. It’s probably not mine anyway.”

After a long time, she finally replied. “He left me the second he found out I was pregnant.”

“Still not seeing how this is my problem.”

“It might be yours,” she said. “I’m eight weeks pregnant. That means it happened before you moved out.”

“Might be,” I scoffed. She wasn’t even sure who knocked her up.

“Don’t care!” I replied, laughing. She was cheating the whole time we were together! There’s no way she could know whose it was.

She didn’t say anything in reply.

But after a while, it started to bother me. What if it was mine?