Thats not your child! Emily shouted, and the paper crumpled in her fingers took flight like a bird before landing squarely in the bin by the door. Here, take it! Burn it if you want! I dont care!
James stood on the doorstep, a bag of fruit and a toy for his son in hand. He hadnt even taken off his shoes. It all happened in secondslike a bolt from the blue.
What are you on about? he asked, feeling his chest tighten.
What you deserve, she snapped, trembling with anger. Youve suffocated me for years, acting like I should be grateful you even stayed with me. You controlled every step I took, every pound I spent, every glance I gave. And now you have the nerve to show up here like nothings happened, with bananas and a teddy bear?
I came to see my son, he said quietly.
Your son? She let out a bitter laugh. You dont have a son. Not here, not anywhere. That boy isnt yours. Not by blood. Not by DNA. Everything youve poured into him? Wasted. Because youre not his father. Youre just a fool who thought love could be bought with nappies and rent cheques.
James stood rooted to the spot. His head throbbed. He stared at her but didnt see her. All he heard was not yoursthe words bouncing off the walls, echoing, drilling into his skull.
Youre lying, he finally said.
I lied for thirty years, she shot back. Lied to myself that youd change. Lied to our son that you were some kind of hero. But now Im telling the truth. And I dont regret it.
He stepped forward, bent down, and pulled the paper from the bin. It was creased, stained with coffee grounds, but the labs stamp and the final verdict were clear: Paternity excluded. Biological father: not listed.
James read it twice. Then a third time. The words didnt change.
When did you do this? he asked, not looking up.
A month ago, she said. Took me long enough. Not for you. For me. I wanted to know how many years Id lived a lie. Now I know. Thirty. And so do you.
He sank onto the stool by the door. The bag of fruit slipped from his grip. Bananas rolled across the laminate.
Does he know? he asked.
Who? Harry? No. And he never will. Let him think youre his dad. Because you *were*. Really. You taught him to ride a bike, took him to school, looked after him when he was ill. You paid for his lessons, his clubs, his school trips. You were there. That means more than some blood test.
And you? His voice was hollow. Who is he? The one who?
Doesnt matter, she cut in. He left before Harry was born. Never came back. It wasnt an affair, wasnt some grand romance. It was a mistake. One night. A moment of weakness. I thought youd understand. I tried to tell you, but you were working six months straight back thenexhausted, angry. I was scared youd leave us. And then it was too late. The baby grew. And I chose to stay quiet.
James stared at the floor. Suddenly, he remembered holding newborn Harry in the hospital, weeping at his first cry, carrying him through sleepless nights, bursting with pride the first time the boy said Daddy.
Why now? he whispered. Why tell me now?
Because you filed for child support, she said. After the divorce. You want me to pay you for raising another mans child. That was the last straw. You turned it all into a transaction. A debt. And I wont let you use our son as leverage. Thats it.
He was silent. His mind was emptyno anger, no hurt, just void.
I loved him, he said softly. Like he was mine. More than myself.
I know, she said. Thats why I never told you. But *you* ruined it. You started keeping score. You said I owed you for his school fees, his doctors visits, his holidays. You turned love into a bloody spreadsheet.
He remembered that argument. Yes, hed said it. In anger. After she refused to lend him money for car repairs.
I didnt mean it, he muttered.
I did, she said. I thoughtif he can say that, then hes not the man I once knew. If hed walk away the second he learns the truth, then hes not a father in his heartjust on paper. So I decided: let him know. Let him feel what its like to lose everything.
He stood, walked to the window. Rain tapped against the glass. Outside, little Harrybackpack bouncingsplashed through puddles, laughing, swinging the umbrella James had given him for his birthday.
He cant know, James repeated.
Never, Emily said. This is our pain. Not his.
And you? he asked. You love him too?
More than life, she said. If I could go back, I wouldnt make that mistake. But I wouldnt change his father. Because you were the best part of his childhood.
He turned to her.
I threw out the test, but I kept a copy, she said. If you want it, take it. But know thisif you tell him, Ill fight to keep you away. Ill go to court. Ill say youre unstable. That you threatened me. That you want to ruin his life. And believe me, theyll side with me.
Id never hurt him, he said. I just dont know what to do.
Live, she said. Keep living. He loves you. He calls you Dad. Thats the truth. Biology doesnt matter. The heart does. And thats stronger.
He looked at herreally looked. For the first time in years, he didnt see an enemy or a betrayer. Just a woman in pain, same as him.
You couldve told me sooner, he said.
And you couldve not demanded money, she shot back. We all make choices. I chose silence. You chose revenge. Now we both pay.
He nodded. Picked up the bag. Wiped the bananas on his jacket.
Ill go, he said. Harry shouldnt see us like this.
Alright, she said. And Im sorry. For how it happened.
He didnt answer. Just left. The door closed softly behind him.
A week later, he sat on a park bench. In his hands, an old photo: him holding Harry, both five years oldfather and sonon the boys first day of school. Harry in a tiny blazer, clutching a bouquet, beaming. James grinning like hed won the lottery.
A neighbour he used to chat with approached.
You still see them? she asked.
Yeah, he said.
People are saying youre not his father, she murmured. That Emily confessed.
He met her gaze.
Do you believe rumours? he asked.
Well if theres a test
Have you seen him run to me shouting Daddy? he cut in. Seen him wait by the window for me? Seen him cry when Im late? *Thats* fatherhood. Not some lab report.
She hesitated, then nodded and walked away.
One evening, Harry came over.
Dad, he said, curled on the sofa, do you love me?
More than anything, James replied.
Even if Im bad?
Then Id love you more. Because youre my son. That doesnt change.
Mum says not everyone close is family, Harry said. Are you?
James smiled. Familys who stays. Who doesnt walk away. Who patches you up when youre hurt, hugs you when youre scared, believes in you when no one else does. *Thats* family.
Harry hugged him tight.
Youre my real dad, he whispered.
James shut his eyes. Tears fell. He didnt wipe them.
Months passed. James stopped demanding money. Stopped dwelling on the past. He still saw Harryzoo trips, football matches, fishing lessons. Teaching him to tie knots, fix a bike, scramble eggs.
One day, Emily called.
Thank you, she said.
For what?
Not wrecking his life. For staying. I thought youd vanish. But you you were stronger than I gave you credit for.
I just realised, he said, love isnt about blood. Its a choice. And I chose him.
She was quiet.
