Id spent my whole married life convincing my husband that the baby was his, and when the truth finally slipped out, his reaction left me flatfooted.
Are you sure this is the right road? my mothers voice trembled, though she tried to mask her anxiety. The tiny line between her eyebrows betrayed her doubts.
What other choice have I got? I lifted my chin, forcing my voice to sound steadier than I felt.
Mother simply pressed her lips together. The expression that settled on her face was one Id only ever seen at my fathers funerala blend of helplessness and ancient fear. Shed already realised there was no persuading me.
That night, for the first time in years, I slept without nightmares. James lay beside me, his even breathing a soothing metronome. I took in his features: the sharp cheekbones, the determined jaw, the barely visible line between his brows. Wed only been together three weeks, yet hed already become my safe harbour. I rested my hand on my belly. Beneath my skin a new life was forminga life that wasnt his. The man whod given me this pregnancy had vanished, leaving only a memory.
James murmured in his sleep, his lips curling into a faint, trusting smile. That smile sealed my decision. I would stay silent.
I wouldnt tell him that the night two days after we met could never have produced this child. That the baby belonged to a different story. I would become the perfect wife, build an immaculate family, and bury my lie beneath a hundred genuine moments.
Dad, look! Oliver raced around the room with a wooden sword, imagining himself a knight. Ive slain the terrible dragon!
James set aside his newspaper and bowed solemnly to his son.
Your Majesty, youre the bravest knight in the kingdom.
Oliver burst into giggles and sprinted toward his father. I stood in the doorway with a tray of hot cocoa, watching James scoop the boy up and twirl him around. Our son. I could hardly breathe. Seven years of living a double life: on the outside a happy wife and mother, on the inside the keeper of a secret that could shatter everything wed built.
Why are you just standing there? James turned to me, a flicker of something in his eyesconcern? suspicion? The cocoas getting cold.
I forced a smile and crossed the room. Oliver grabbed a cup, leaving a chocolate moustache on his upper lip.
Who does he look more like? James asked suddenly, gazing at his son with such pride that my heart clenched.
You, of course, I blurted, avoiding his stare. Especially the eyes.
James nodded thoughtfully. I think hes all you. Just as stubborn. He ruffled Olivers hairdark as a ravens wing, the same shade as his real fathers.
Can I have more cocoa? Oliver pleaded, holding out his empty cup.
Only if you promise to brush your teeth afterwards, I said, stroking his cheek, overwhelmed by how much I loved this little human.
James pulled me into a hug, and the weight of his closeness felt almost unbearable, as if each touch was an unspoken rebuke I deserved but hed never voice.
Are you alright? he whispered.
Just a tough day, I replied, leaning in to touch his cheek lightly. Has anyone ever told you youre the best husband in the world?
He gave a small smile, but something in his eyes made my skin prickle. It was as if he could see every lie, every fear, every tear Id swallowed, yet he still looked at me as if I were a priceless treasure that had landed in his lap by sheer luck. I turned away so he wouldnt see my hands shaking as I poured the cocoa. How long could I carry this burden? How long could the façade of a perfect family, built on a single devastating lie, hold up?
The years sped by. Oliver turned twenty. I watched himtall, with dimples appearing whenever he smiledand I could barely believe the boy who once fit in my arms was now a man.
We were preparing for his party. I was busy marinating kebabs when James entered holding a dusty photo album.
Look what I found in the attic, he said, setting it on the table and brushing off the cobwebs. I havent opened this in ages.
I froze, a cold shiver running down my spine. The album chronicled our lifeboth the real version and the one Id invented. There were early pictures before Oliver was born, with me forcing hopeful, fearful smiles. James flipped through the pages, chuckling at the 90s hairstyles and fashions. I wiped my hands and sat beside him, trying to breathe normally.
Remember how nervous you were before giving birth? he pointed to a photo of me in late pregnancy, clinging to his shoulder, terror plain on my face.
How could I forget, I managed, forcing a smile. I was convinced I wouldnt survive.
He pulled me close and kissed my temple.
But I knew youd get through it. Youve always been stronger than you think.
His words hit like a thunderclap. Strong? Me? A woman whod spent twenty years under the weight of a lie, facing her husband and son every day without the truth?
Dont exaggerate, I said quietly, stepping away to finish the kebabs. I just did what I had to.
Like the rest of us, James said philosophically, leafing through the album.
From the corner of my eye, I watched him closely, wondering what he thought when he looked at pictures of Oliver. Did he notice any odd features, subtle inconsistencies? Did he ask himself questions hed never spoken?
Heres the birthday boy! he exclaimed, pointing to a photo of a twoyearold Oliver covered in chocolate. He was always getting into mischief!
Something inside me cracked, like thin ice under a weight. Id carried this secret for twenty years, like a prisoner dragging chains. It had ground my heart to dust, drained my strength, and turned genuine joy into performance.
I couldnt bear it any longer.
That evening, after Oliver went out with his mates, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for a long time. The face looking back seemed a strangersdark circles, a bitter line at the mouth. The face of a liar.
James was in the living room, scrolling on his phone. He looked up when he saw me and, for a moment, I thought he knew everything. Had he known for ages?
James, my voice sounded odd, as if it belonged to someone else. We need to talk.
He set his phone down, his expression shifting to that familiar look of attentive concern that appeared whenever I was uneasy.
Is something wrong? he asked gently.
I sat opposite him, hands clenched until my knuckles turned white. The room blurred, but his face stayed sharpthe face of the man Id come to see as my whole world, the man Id deceived for twenty years, day after day.
Theres something I need to tell you, I began, each word feeling like a razor against my throat. Something I should have said a long time ago.
James leaned forward, his eyes flickering with worry, expectationor perhaps understanding.
Oliver My tongue tangled, but I forced on. Oliver isnt your son.
I shut my eyes, bracing for the explosion: shouting, slammed doors, the end of everything.
But there was only a
