Ive been keeping a secret from James my whole life I told him the baby was his, even though it never was. When the truth finally came out, his reaction knocked the wind out of me.
Are you sure this is the right way? Mums voice shook, though she tried to hide it. The little line between her eyebrows gave her away.
What other choice do I have? I lifted my chin, trying to steady my voice.
Mum only pressed her lips together. The look on her face was the one Id only seen at Dads funeral a mix of helplessness and raw fear. She knew there was no convincing me.
That night, for the first time in ages, I slept without nightmares. James lay beside me, his even breathing a balm to my nerves. I took in his features the sharp cheekbones, the firm chin, the faint line between his brows. Wed only been together three weeks, but he already felt like my safe harbour. I rested my hand on my belly. Beneath the skin a new life was growing a life that wasnt his. The man whod given me this pregnancy had disappeared, leaving only memories.
James murmured in his sleep, a tiny smile curling his lips. That smile sealed my decision. I would stay silent.
I wouldnt tell him that the night two days after we met could never have led to this. That the child belonged to a different story. I would become the perfect wife, build a flawless family, and bury my lie under a hundred genuine moments.
Dad, look! Oliver darted around the living room with a plastic sword, pretending hed slain a dragon.
James set his paper aside and bowed dramatically to his son.
Your Majesty, youre the bravest knight in the kingdom.
Oliver burst into giggles and ran to his dad. I stood in the doorway with a tray of hot cocoa, watching James scoop the boy up and spin him around. Our son. I could hardly breathe. Seven years of living a double life on the outside a happy wife and mum, on the inside the keeper of a secret that could shatter everything.
Why are you just standing there? James asked, and something flickered in his eyes concern? suspicion? The cocoas getting cold.
I forced a smile and walked over. Oliver grabbed a cup, leaving a chocolate smudge on his upper lip.
Who does he look more like? James suddenly asked, his pride evident.
You, of course, I lied, avoiding his gaze. Especially the eyes.
James nodded thoughtfully. I think hes all you. Stubborn as you are.
He ruffled Olivers hair dark as a ravens wing, the same shade as his real fathers.
Can I have more cocoa? Oliver held out his empty cup, looking absolutely adorable.
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 too much, as if each touch was an unspoken rebuke I somehow deserved.
Are you alright? he whispered.
Just a long day, I replied, lightly touching his cheek. 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 like I was a priceless treasure hed stumbled upon by chance. 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 rushed by. Oliver turned twenty. I looked at him tall now, with dimples appearing whenever he smiled and I could hardly believe the little boy I once cradled was this young man.
We were prepping for his birthday party. I was marinating kebabs when James walked in with a dusty photo album.
Found this in the attic, he said, placing it on the table. Never opened it in ages.
I froze. The album was a chronicle of our life both the real version and the one Id invented. There were early photos before Oliver was born, with me forcing hopeful, nervous smiles. James flipped through the pages, laughing at the 90s hairstyles and fashions. I wiped my hands and sat beside him, trying to breathe normally.
Remember how terrified you were before the birth? he pointed to a photo of me in late pregnancy, clinging to his shoulder, eyes wide with panic.
How could I forget, I managed, forcing a smile. I thought I wouldnt make it.
He pulled me close and kissed my temple. But I knew youd get through it. Youve always been stronger than you think.
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 whispered, stepping back to finish the kebabs. I just did what I had to.
Like the rest of us, James said, leafing through the album.
From the corner of my eye I watched him, wondering what he thought when he looked at Olivers pictures. Did he notice any mismatched features? Did he ever ask himself questions he never voiced?
Heres the birthday boy! he exclaimed, pointing to a photo of a twoyearold Oliver covered in chocolate. He was always getting into trouble!
Something inside me cracked, like thin ice under a boot. Id carried this secret for twenty years, a prisoner dragging chains. It had ground my heart to dust, drained my strength, turned real joy into a performance. I couldnt bear it any longer.
That evening, after Oliver went out with friends, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror for ages. The face looking back seemed foreign shadows under the eyes, 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 known for a long time.
James, my voice sounded strange, as if it belonged to someone else. We need to talk.
He set his phone down, his expression turning to that familiar look of concern he always wore when he sensed my unease.
Is something wrong? he asked gently.
I sat opposite him, hands clenched until my knuckles turned white. The room blurred, but his face stayed sharp the man Id come to see as my whole world, the man Id deceived for twenty years.
Theres something I have to tell you, I began, each word feeling like a razor against my throat. Something I should have said ages ago.
James leaned forward, his eyes flickering with worry, expectation maybe understanding.
Oliver My tongue tangled, but I forced on. Oliver isnt your son.
I shut my eyes, bracing for an explosion shouting, slammed doors, the end of everything.
Instead there was only a deep silence, the ticking of an old clock and my own heartbeat filling the void. I opened my eyes to meet his calm, sorrowful gaze.
I know, he said quietly but firmly.
Those two words knocked the wind out of me. The room spun, and I clutched the armrest to stay upright.
What? Howhow long? My voice trembled.
James rose and walked to the window. Beyond it, Manchesters lights glittered, indifferent to our drama. Against the glow his silhouette looked ghostly, as if cut from shadow.
From the very start, he replied, each word echoing in my mind. Your mother told me a week after we met.
My mother? I felt the floor drop out from under me. Why didnt youwhy didnt you ever say anything?
James turned to face me. In the dim light I couldnt read his eyes, only the tight line of his jaw. It wasnt anger, just emotion
