I still remember, as clearly as if it were yesterday, the day my husband and his parents demanded a DNA test for our little boy, and the condition I set in return altered everything.
It was a cold winter in a modest terraced house in Camden, London. I was perched on our faded sofa, cradling baby Ethan, while Markmy husbandand his parents, Gerald and Patricia, hurled accusations at me like sharp pebbles.
It all began with a glance. When Patricia first set eyes on Ethan in the maternity ward of St. Thomas Hospital, she frowned. While Mark was in the next room, she whispered, He doesnt look like a Collins. I pretended not to hear, yet those words cut deeper than the stitches from my caesarean.
At first Mark laughed it off. We joked about how babies change, that Ethan had my cheekbones and his chin. But the seed of doubt had been sown, and Patricia nurtured it whenever she could.
You know, Mark had blue eyes as a baby, she would remark, holding Ethan up to the light. Isnt it odd that his eyes are so dark?
Three months later, Mark came home late from the factory. I was on the sofa, feeding Ethan, hair unwashed, exhaustion hanging over me like a heavy coat. He didnt even mutter a greeting; he stood there, arms crossed.
We need to speak, he said.
I already knew what he meant.
Mom and Dad think it would be best if we did a DNA test. To clear the air.
Clear the air? I echoed, my voice hoarse with disbelief. You think Ive been unfaithful?
Mark shifted uneasily. No, Ethel. Not at all. Theyre worried. I just want to put it to restfor everyone.
My heart sank. For everyone. Not for me, not for Ethan, but for them.
Fine, I said after a long pause, holding back tears. If you want a test, youll have one. But I ask something in return.
Mark frowned. What do you mean?
If I endure this insult, then you agree that, should the results be what I know they will be, you will let me handle the aftermath my way. And you will promise, here and now, 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 as cold as a winter morning.
And if I refuse?
I met his gaze, feeling Ethans soft breaths against my chest. Then you may all leave. Do not return.
Silence settled thick. Patricia opened her mouth to protest, but Mark silenced her with a glance. He knew I was not bluffing. He knew I had never strayed. Ethan was his sonhis mirror, if only he could look past his mothers poison.
Very well, Mark finally said, running a hand through his hair. Well do the test. And if it proves what you say, that will be the end of it.
Patricias face twisted as if shed swallowed a lemon. This is absurd, she hissed. If you have nothing to hide
Oh, I have nothing to hide, I snapped. You, however, have your hatred and meddling. It ends when this test is finished. Otherwise youll never see your son or grandson again.
Mark winced but said nothing.
Two days later, the nurse swabbed Ethans tiny mouth while he whined in my arms. Mark gave his sample with a grim set to his jaw. That night I rocked Ethan, whispering apologies he could not understand.
Sleep eluded me. Mark drifted on the sofa, his head resting on his hands. I could not bear having him in our bed while he doubted meand our child.
When the results arrived, Mark read them first. He fell to his knees before me, the paper trembling in his grip. Ethel Im so sorry. I should never have
Dont apologise to me, I said coldly, lifting Ethan from his cot onto my lap. Apologise to your son. And to yourself, for losing something you can never get back.
My battle was not over. The test was merely the beginning.
Mark remained kneeling, clutching the proof of what he should have always known. His eyes were red, but I felt nothingno warmth, no pity. Only a cold void where trust once lived.
Behind him, Patricia and Gerald stood frozen. Patricias lips were so tight they were white. She dared not meet my gaze. Good.
You promised, I said calmly, rocking Ethan, who gurgled blissfully, unaware of the storm around us. You said that if the test cleared the air, you would cut out anyone still doubting me.
Mark swallowed hard. Ethel, please. Shes my mother. She was just worried
Worried? I laughed sharply, making Ethan flinch. She poisoned you against your own wife and son. Called me a liar and a cheatall because she cannot stand not controlling your life.
Patricia stepped forward, her voice trembling with righteous venom. Ethel, dont be dramatic. We did what any family would. We had to be sure
No, I interrupted. Normal families trust each other. Normal husbands do not make their wives prove their children are theirs. You wanted proof? You have it. Now youll get something else.
Mark looked confused. Ethel, what are you saying?
I drew a deep breath, feeling Ethans heartbeat against my chest. I want all of you gone. Now.
Patricia gasped. Gerald stammered. Marks eyes widened. What? Ethel, you cantthis is our house
No, I said firmly. This is Ethans house. Mine and his. You three ruined it. You doubted us, humiliated me. You will not raise my son in a home where his mother is called a liar.
Mark rose, anger flashing as guilt vanished. Ethel, 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 I am done being reasonable. You want to stay here? Fine. But your parents must leave. Today. Or you all leave.
Patricias voice shrilled. Mark! Are you really letting her do this? Your own mother
Mark glanced at me, then at Ethan, then at the floor. For the first time in years, he looked like a lost boy in his own home. He turned to Patricia and Gerald. Mum. Dad. Maybe you should go.
The silence cracked Patricias perfect mask. Fury and disbelief twisted her face. Gerald placed a hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it away.
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 rue the day he comes crawling back.
I smiled. Goodbye, Patricia.
In minutes, Gerald gathered their coats, muttering apologies that Mark could not answer. Patricia left without looking back. When the door shut, the house felt larger, emptieryet lighter.
Mark sank onto the edge of the sofa, staring at his hands. He looked up, his voice barely a whisper. Ethel Im sorry. I should have stood up for youfor us.
I nodded. Yes. You should have.
He reached for my hand. I let him hold it for a momentjust a momentthen withdrew. Mark, I do not know if I can forgive you. This has shattered my trust in you and in them.
Tears welled in his eyes. Tell me what to do. Ill do anything.
I looked down at Ethan, who yawned and clutched 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 will lose us forever. Understand?
He nodded, shoulders slumping. I understand.
In the weeks that followed, Patricia called, begged, threatenedI answered none of it. Mark came home early each night, took Ethan for walks so I could rest, cooked simple meals, and looked at our son as if seeing him for the first timebecause, in a way, he was.
Rebuilding trust is not easy. Some nights I lie awake wondering if I shall ever see Mark the same way again. Yet every morning, when I watch him feed Ethan breakfast and make him laugh, I think perhapsjust perhapswe will be alright.
We are not perfect. We are ours. And that, at last, is enough.
