I LOVED MY BEST FRIEND’S CHILD LIKE MY OWN FOR YEARS BECAUSE THE CHILD WAS ACTUALLY MINE -LADY ANONYMOUSLY SHARES

People always joked that I loved my best friend’s child too much.

They said I acted like a second mother. That I worried more than necessary. That I showed up even when it wasn’t required. I laughed every time they said it.

What they didn’t know was that my heart already knew something my mouth refused to admit.

My best friend and I grew up together. We shared everything clothes, secrets, dreams. When she started dating her boyfriend, I was happy for her. I supported the relationship, defended him when people complained about him, and even helped them settle fights.

That was how close we were.

Then one mistake changed everything.

It happened during a period when she travelled out of town for weeks. Her boyfriend stayed back. We talked often, mostly about her. One night, lines were crossed that should never have been crossed.

I regretted it immediately.

I prayed nothing would come from it. I buried the guilt so deep that even I pretended it never happened. When my best friend returned, I acted normal. I smiled. I moved on.

Months later, she told me she was pregnant.

I remember the room spinning.

She was crying when she told me. The man denied responsibility and slowly disappeared from her life. I held her while she cried. I promised to help her raise the child. I swore I would never abandon her.

I kept that promise.

I helped pay hospital bills. I stayed with her after delivery. I woke up at night to help with the baby. I became “Aunty” to everyone else, but in my heart, something felt different.

As the child grew, the resemblance became impossible to ignore.

Same eyes.

Same smile.

Same expressions people always said looked like mine.

People joked. Strangers asked questions. Family members whispered. I laughed it off every time, but fear lived inside me.

I told myself it was coincidence.

Years later, the child fell seriously ill and needed blood. I volunteered immediately. There was no hesitation. After all, I loved the child like my own.

At the hospital, the doctor asked me questions that made my legs weak. Questions about dates. Relationships. Possibilities I didn’t want to hear out loud.

A DNA test confirmed what I had been running from.

The child was mine.

I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry immediately. I went home and sat on my bed till morning, staring at the wall. I thought of my best friend her trust, her tears, her gratitude. I thought of the child innocent, unaware of the lie surrounding their existence.

I thought of how one truth could destroy everything.

I chose silence.

Till today, my best friend doesn’t know. The child still calls me “Aunty.” I still show up. I still help. I still smile.

But every hug feels heavier.

Every laugh reminds me of what I’m hiding.

I didn’t just help raise my best friend’s child.

I helped raise my own child from the shadows.

And some nights, I wonder if loving from a distance is punishment enough or if the truth will one day demand its own price.