I Am Oksana, and This Is Your 6-Year-Old Grandson!

I am Oksana, and this is your sixyearold grandson.
In a quiet little town in the south of France, where the lanes are shaded by plane trees and life moves at a leisurely pace, my fate took an unexpected turn. My name is Hélène Dumont, and I was walking home from work when a voice called my name. I turned around and froze: standing before me was a young woman holding a boy who looked about six years old. She stepped closer and uttered words that chilled me: Hélène Dumont, Im Camille, and this is your grandson, Mathis. He is six.
I was stunned. Their faces were strangers, and their statement hit me like thunder. I have a son, Théo, a brilliant and ambitious man who is climbing the professional ladder. He isnt married, and although I have always dreamed of becoming a grandmother, I never imagined it would happen suddenly, delivered by a complete stranger. Shock gave way to confusion: how could I have been unaware of this grandson for six years?
The blame, I suppose, lies with me. I raised Théo alone, working tirelessly to give him a future. Im proud of his achievements, yet his romantic life has always worried me. He flitted from one conquest to another, never forming a lasting bond. I kept my distance, but deep down I recalled being twenty when I gave birth to himalone, without support, sacrificing my youth and giving up any comfort. Only a few years ago did Théo treat me to a trip on the Côte dAzurmy first time looking out at the sea. I regret nothing, but the notion of being a grandmother has always lingered.
Then Camille and Mathis stood before me. In a voice that trembled yet stayed firm she added, I hesitated a long time before telling you, but Mathis is part of your family. You had the right to know. I ask for nothing; Im raising him on my own. Here is my number. If youd like to meet him, call me.
She left, leaving me shaken. I called Théo at once. He was as bewildered as I was. He could barely recall a brief relationship with a Camille many years ago. She had announced a pregnancy, but he refused to accept paternity, and then she vanished, never to cross his mind again. Her words pierced me. My beloved son had dismissed that responsibility as a trivial matter.
Théo insisted he knew nothing about the child and doubted that Mathis was his. Why would she wait six years? Thats suspicious! I tried to make sense of it. He told me they had broken up in September. Doubt crept in: what if Camille was lying? Yet Mathiss shy, wide eyes kept resurfacing in my mind.
Eventually I called Camille back. She told me Mathis was born in April. When I mentioned a DNA test, she replied calmly, I know who his father is. No test is needed. She assured me that her parents were helping, that she worked to provide for Mathis, and that he would start primary school this September. Her tone was steady, but laced with determination.
Hélène Dumont, if you want to see Mathis, I wont object, she said. Otherwise, Ill understand. She added that she knew, from Théo, how hard this had been for me. She hung up abruptly, and ever since I cant stop wondering whether I should knock on her door or leave the past where it belongs.