Victor closes his eyes. Thirtyfive years ago Emily lies in a hospital ward, pale and exhausted. Doctors call her survival a miracle. He swears then that the boy theyre about to bring into the world will be the happiest child on earth.
Dad, can you hear me? Pauls voice pulls Victor back to the present.
Yes, son. I was just daydreaming.
They sit in a café opposite Pauls office. Paul orders a coffee, Victor a lemonteaSaturday ritual.
Whats the project status? Victor asks.
We got it! A threeyear contract, can finally start thinking about a mortgage.
Victor smiles. Paul has never let him downtop of his class at school, a firstclass honours degree, a steady climb up the career ladder.
Hows Lucy? Victor probes.
Everythings fine. She wants kids, Im not ready yet. Work keeps me busy.
Dont wait, Paul. Time flies.
Paul checks his watch.
Dad, I have to go. Meeting in half an hour.
Run. See you tomorrow at Moms?
Definitely.
Victor watches his son leave, tall, confident, his pride, his legacy.
At home Emily is cooking lunch.
Hows Paul? she asks without turning from the stove.
Hes thrilled about the contract.
Good lad.
Victor wraps his arm around Emilys shoulders. Forty years together, through illness, money troubles, the loss of their parents, but the family has endured.
Emily, remember how we always talked about having children?
I recall you saying wed name the boy Paul.
And we did.
Emily freezes for a moment, her posture odd.
Whats wrong? Victor asks.
Nothing. This onions making my eyes sting.
That evening Michael, Victors cousin, calls. Its been ages.
Hey Victor, hows it going?
Fine, you?
Retired now. Yesterday I ran into Paul in the city centre.
So?
Just thought he doesnt look like you at all. Not even like Emily.
What are you on about?
Never mind. By the way, do you remember that guy Emily dated back in the day David, was it?
David?
Yes, when you two fought and split for half a year. She was seeing someone else then.
A cold shiver runs down Victors spine.
What are you saying?
Forget it, it was ages ago. The important thing is the familys solid, the sons a good lad.
After the call Victor lingers in the kitchen while Emily sleeps. He tries to recall that periodwhat they argued about, why Emily left for a friends house in York for four or five months. They reconciled, a year later Paul was born.
Victor turns on his laptop, scrolls through photos of Paul. The eyes, the nose, the heightnone match his own. He took after his mother, they always said, yet he also looks unlike Emily.
He shuts the laptop, trying to banish the intrusive thoughts. Michael loves gossip; Paul is his son, his blood, his pride. Sleep eludes him.
The next day Victor cant focus at work. Michaels words echo.
Emily, remember when we broke up back then? he says that evening.
Emily freezes, plate in hand.
Why dig up the past?
Just curious. Where were you living?
At Sophies flat in York. Why?
Nothing. Michael called yesterday, we were reminiscing.
Emily sets the plate down and rushes out of the kitchen. Victor watches her, puzzled by her sudden nervousness.
A week later he cant take it any longer and books a doctors appointment, pretending its a routine checkup.
Doctor, can I ask about paternity testing?
What kind?
Just a DNA test, purely theoretical.
The doctor smiles. Two weeks and youll have results. Though Im not sure why youd need that at your age.
Its for a friend.
At home Victor finds Pauls old hairbrush, pulls a few strands, and sends them to the lab.
Two weeks crawl by like two years. Emily keeps asking whats happening; he brushes it off as work stress.
The results arrive Thursday morning. Victor opens the file with trembling hands.
Paternity probability: 0%.
He reads it three, then four times. Zero percent. Paul isnt his son.
Victor slams the laptop shut and collapses onto the sofa. Thirtyfive years of loving, raising, and investing in a child he now learns isnt his biologically. Emily has known all along.
That night Emily comes home, smiling from work.
Victor, Paul called. He and Lucy are coming tomorrow. Ill make his favourite shepherds pie.
Emily, we need to talk.
His tone makes her wary.
What about?
Sit down.
She sits opposite him, hands folded.
Paul isnt my son.
Emilys face goes pale.
What are you saying?
I have the test.
The DNA test?
Yes. Zero percent.
She stays silent, then bursts into tears.
Victor
Whos the father? David?
How do you know?
It doesnt matter. Answer.
It was so long ago we fought, split up
And you went to David right away?
No, a month later. I was lonely, confused
Then I came back to you with his child.
I didnt know! I swear I didnt! I thought it was yours!
Youre lying. Can you even count?
Emily hiccups.
I realised after he was born. What could I have done? Destroy the family?
So youve been lying to me for thirtyfive years.
I didnt lie, I kept silentfor us.
You kept silent for yourself! Coward!
Victor stands, heading for the door.
Where are you going?
I dont know. I need to think.
Dont leave! Lets talk!
He slams the door.
Rain patters on the pavement as Victor walks, wondering how he can ever look Paul in the eye again, hug him, celebrate his successes. The result of his wifes infidelity hangs heavy.
Tomorrow theyll arrive, smiling, sharing news, and hell have to pretend nothings changed. Nothing is the same.
The following day Victor skips work, staring out the window. Emily tries to speak in the morning, but he remains mute. She leaves for her sisters cottage at noon.
At five oclock Paul calls.
Dad, well be there in an hour. Lucy bought a cake.
Dont come.
What? Why?
Just dont today.
Are you sick?
No. Lets postpone.
Dad, whats going on? Moms acting strange.
Victor hangs up. Ten minutes later Paul rings again, then again. Victor silences his phone.
An hour later theres a frantic knock.
Dad, open up! I know youre home!
Victor stays motionless in his armchair.
Dad, whats happening? Moms crying, wont explain!
The knocking turns into pounding.
Open, or Ill break in with my spare key!
Victor remembers Paul has a spare.
Paul, Im coming down.
He opens the door to a dishevelled, anxious Paul.
Finally! Whats going on?
Come in.
They sit in the living room. Paul looks bewildered.
Dad, say something.
Youre not my son.
What?
Im not your father.
Paul blinks, stunned.
Are you serious?
I did a DNA test. Result was zero.
What test? What are you talking about?
The paternity test. Im not your father.
Paul stays silent, then asks quietly, So what now?
I dont know.
You mean I was raised for thirtyfive years and now you just drop this on me? Thats it?
You dont get it
What dont I get? That Mom was with someone else? And what?
She cheated on me!
You? Who cheated on you? Am I to blame?
Victor looks at Pauls eyesconfused, hurt, like a childs.
Dad, be honest. What changed? Im still the same.
Everything changed.
So Im no longer your son? In an instant?
You were never my son.
Paul stands.
Got it. Blood matters to you, not the years weve lived together.
Its not that simple.
You did the test and disowned me the same day.
Im not disowning you
You are! Yesterday I was your son, today Im not!
Paul heads for the door.
Where are you going?
Home. Deal with your own blood.
The door slams. Victor is left alone.
Emily returns later.
Where have you been?
At Aunts. Lets talk properly.
What about?
Us. The family.
What family? You destroyed it thirtyfive years ago.
I built it! I gave birth, raised, loved!
A strangers son.
My son! And yours too!
Not mine.
Emily sits beside him.
Victor, remember how happy you were when he was born? Cradling him, teaching him to walk.
That was before I learned the truth.
The truth is you were his father, the real one, not the man who made him and vanished.
Victor is silent.
Paul cried today. An adult man crying. It hurts, Victor.
It hurts me too.
Does he deserve it?
No, hes innocent.
But Im not his father.
Emily stands.
Then live with your test results. Were done without you.
That night Victor cant sleep, replaying memories of Pauls childhood fevers, the injections, the bedtime stories, the pride at school graduations. Was it all for nothing?
A week passes. Victor goes to work, returns home, eats in silence. Emily tries to talk, he answers curtly. Paul doesnt call.
On Saturday Victor sits alone. Emily is away at her sisters cottage. He flips through old photo albums: Paul in a pushchair, his first steps, a threeyearold birthday cake, a school assembly in a little suit, the graduation, the university dissertation where Paul thanks his parents. Every picture radiates love, genuine love. Can a test erase that?
Victor closes the album and finally weeps, the first tears in days.
That evening Paul calls.
Dad, can I come over?
Come.
Paul arrives half an hour later, looking tired.
How are you? Victor asks.
Honestly, not great.
They sit in the living room, a quiet minute passes.
Dad, Ive figured something out. I dont care who my biological father is. To me, youre dad. Thats final.
Victor looks at his son.
Paul
Let me finish. You were my dad for thirtyfive years. You taught me, protected me, Im proud of you. No test can change that.
But Im not your
Father? I am your father in every way that matters. Who drove me to the hospital when I broke my arm? Who attended parentteacher meetings? Who paid for my tuition?
Victor is silent.
Dad, there are blood relatives and there are family you choose. Youre my chosen parent. That matters more than any DNA strand.
I dont know how to act now
Just keep living. Were still a family.
Paul, it hurts. It hurts a lot.
I get it. The pain will pass, the family stays.
Paul stands.
Dad, tomorrows Sunday. Come over, Lucys making stew.
Im not sure
Please come.
The next morning Victor drags himself out of bed. Emily waits, silent. He finally puts on his coat.
Lets go.
At Pauls house the warmth is unchanged. Lucy greets them as if nothing happened. They chat about work, upcoming holidays, ordinary family banter. Victor watches Paul, the man who has called him dad for thirtyfive years, sharing joys, seeking advice, caring for him. Is biology any more important than this?
After lunch Paul drives his parents to the car.
Thanks for coming, Dad.
Youre welcome.
For what?
For being here. For putting up with me. For being my son.
Paul hugs him.
Where will I go? Youre still my dad.
Back home Emily asks, How did it go?
Fine. Hes a good son.
A good son ours.
Victor embraces his wife. Thirtyfive years ago fate gave him a sonnot by blood, but by love. That love proves stronger than any lab result.
Family isnt about DNA. Its the years shared, the laughter and grief, the love that doesnt hinge on a test. Paul remains his son, now and forever.
