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I used to think betrayal was the worst thing that could happen in a marriage. I was wrong. The worst part was watching my husband be a father to someone else's child while our own daughter slowly learned not to expect him anymore. On her seventh birthday, she stared at the untouched cake and quietly asked me, "Mom... does Daddy belong to Noah now?" Something inside me went still. For years, I had begged him to choose us. That night, I finally realized I didn't need him to. So I stopped waiting.