After I confessed my mistake, my wife’s reaction changed everything.

Why did he visit me so often? I told myself it wasn’t my place to question him, not after what he’d done. Even so, the unease grew stronger each day.

Finally, one night, I asked him directly. He looked at me for a long time and then smiled, not angrily, but peacefully.

“I’m pregnant,” she said softly. My heart stopped. After everything she had done, she had been protecting herself and the new life growing inside her. I felt humbled and ashamed at the same time.

That night, lying next to her, I understood: love is not measured by impeccability, but by compassion.