I never imagined the man I lovedmy husband and the father of my childwould stare me straight in the eye and question whether our son was his. Yet there I was, perched on the cream sofa in our Manchester flat, cradling our tiny boy while Mark and his parents hurled accusations like daggers.
It all started with a glance. When my motherinlaw, Patricia, first saw Ethan in the Royal Manchester Childrens Hospital, she frowned. Whispering to Mark while I pretended to be asleep, she muttered, He doesnt look like a Collins. I pretended not to hear, but her words cut deeper than the stitches from my Csection.
At first Mark brushed it off. We laughed about how babies change, how Ethan had my nose and Marks chin. But that seed of doubt had been planted, and Patricia watered it with suspicion whenever she could.
You know, Mark had blue eyes as a baby, shed say pointedly, holding Ethan up to the light. Isnt it odd his eyes are so dark?
One evening, when Ethan was three months old, Mark trudged home late from the factory. I was on the sofa, feeding the baby, hair unwashed, exhaustion hanging over me like a heavy coat. He didnt even kiss me. He just stood there, arms crossed.
We need to talk, he said.
I already knew what was coming.
Mom and Dad think its best if we do a DNA test. To clear the air.
To clear the air? I echoed, my voice hoarse with disbelief. You think Ive been unfaithful?
Mark shifted uneasily. No, Emma. Not at all. But theyre worried. I just want to settle thisfor everyone.
My heart sank. For everyone. Not for me. Not for Ethan. For them.
Fine, I said after a long pause, holding back tears. If you want a test, youll get one. But I want something in return.
Mark frowned. What do you mean?
If I agree to this insult, youll let me handle whatever comes next if the results turn out as I expect. And youll promise, right here, in front of your parents, that anyone who still doubts me after this will be cut off.
Mark hesitated. Behind him, Patricia stiffened, arms crossed, eyes icecold.
And if I refuse?
I met his gaze, feeling Ethans gentle breaths against my chest. Then you can all leave. Dont come back.
The room grew heavy. Patricia opened her mouth to argue, but Mark silenced her with a glance. He knew I wasnt bluffing. He knew Id never been unfaithful. Ethan was his sonhis mirror image, if only he could see past his mothers poison.
Fine, Mark said finally, running a hand through his hair. Well do the test. And if it proves what you say, thats it. No more accusations.
Patricia looked as if shed swallowed a lemon. This is ridiculous, she hissed. If you have nothing to hide
Oh, I have nothing to hide, I snapped. But you doyour hatred, your meddling. It ends once the test is done, or youll never see your son or grandson again.
Mark winced but didnt argue.
Two days later the test was taken. A nurse swabbed Ethans tiny mouth while he whined in my arms. Mark gave his sample, his face grim. That night I rocked Ethan, whispering apologies he could not understand.
I barely slept. Mark dozed on the sofa. I couldnt bear having him in our bed while he still doubted meand our baby.
When the results arrived, Mark read them first. He sank to his knees before me, paper trembling in his hand. Emma Im so sorry. I never should have
Dont apologise to me, I said coldly, lifting Ethan from the crib onto my lap. Apologise to your son. And to yourself. Because youve lost something you can never get back.
My battle was far from over. The test was only the beginning.
Mark knelt there, clutching proof of what he should have always known. His eyes were red, but I felt nothingno warmth, no pity. Just cold emptiness where trust once lived.
Behind him, Patricia and my fatherinlaw, Gerald, stood frozen. Patricias lips were so tight they were white. She didnt dare meet my gaze. Good.
You promised, I said calmly, rocking Ethan, who gurgled happily, oblivious to the storm. You said that if the test cleared the air, youd cut out anyone still doubting me.
Mark swallowed hard. Emma, please. Shes my mother. She was just worried
Worried? I laughed sharply, making Ethan flinch. I kissed his soft hair. She poisoned you against your own wife and son. Called me a liar and a cheatall because she cant stand not controlling your life.
Patricia stepped forward, voice trembling with righteous venom. Emma, dont be dramatic. We did what any family would. We had to be sure
No, I interrupted. Normal families trust each other. Normal husbands dont make their wives prove their children are theirs. You wanted proof? Youve got it. Now youll get something else.
Mark looked confused. Emma, what do you mean?
I inhaled deeply, feeling Ethans heartbeat against my chest. I want all of you gone. Now.
Patricia gasped. Gerald sputtered. Marks eyes widened. What? Emma, you cantthis is our house
No, I said firmly. This is Ethans house. Mine and his. And you three broke it. You doubted us, humiliated me. You will not raise my son in a home where his mother is called a liar.
Mark stood, anger rising as guilt vanished. Emma, be reasonable
I was reasonable, I snapped. When I agreed to that disgusting test. When I bit my tongue as your mother jabbed at my hair, my cooking, my family. I was reasonable letting her into our lives at all.
I held Ethan tighter. But Im done being reasonable. You want to stay here? Fine. But your parents leave. Today. Or you all leave.
Patricias voice shrilled. Mark! Are you really letting her do this? Your own mother
Mark looked at me, then at Ethan, then at the floor. For the first time in years he seemed a lost boy in his own home. He turned to Patricia and Gerald. Mom. Dad. Maybe you should go.
The silence cracked Patricias perfect mask. Her face twisted with fury and disbelief. Gerald placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off.
This is your wifes doing, she hissed at Mark. Dont expect forgiveness.
She turned to me, eyes sharp as knives. Youll regret this. You think youve won, but youll regret it when he comes crawling back.
I smiled. Goodbye, Patricia.
In minutes Gerald snatched their coats, mumbling apologies Mark couldnt answer. Patricia left without looking back. When the door shut, the flat felt larger, emptierbut lighter.
Mark sat on the edge of the sofa, staring at his hands. He looked up at me, voice barely a whisper. Emma Im sorry. I shouldve stood up for youfor us.
I nodded. Yes. You shouldve.
He reached for my hand. I let him take it for a momentjust a momentthen pulled away. Mark, I dont know if I can forgive you. This broke my trust in them and in you.
Tears welled in his eyes. Tell me what to do. Ill do anything.
I looked down at Ethan, who yawned and curled his tiny fingers around my sweater. Start by earning it back. Be the father he deserves. Be the husband I deserveif you want that chance. And if you ever let them near me or Ethan again without my permission, you wont see us again. Understand?
Mark nodded, shoulders slumping. I understand.
In the weeks that followed, things changed. Patricia called, begged, threatenedI didnt answer. Mark didnt either. He came home early each night, took Ethan for walks so I could rest, cooked dinner. He looked at our son as if seeing him for the first timebecause perhaps, in a way, he was.
Rebuilding trust is hard. Some nights I lie awake wondering if Ill ever see Mark the same way. But every morning, when I watch him feed Ethan breakfast and make him laugh, I think maybejust maybewell be okay.
Were not perfect. But were ours. And thats enough.
