The air in the room thickened as Oliver spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Emily, I have to go… I have a son. With Sophie. I… I didnt know, Im sorry. I need to be there for himyou understand, dont you?” His gaze dropped like a scolded pup, guilty and unsure.
Emilys world flipped upside down, landing squarely on her head. The words took a moment to settle.
“A son? You cheated on me?” she choked out, her throat tight.
“No!” Olivers eyebrows shot up. “Youve got it wrong. It was before you. Hes three now. She just… never told me. Pride, maybe. Or spite. Who knows? But now shes come clean. Says he needs a father, that hes strugglingacting out because theres no dad around.”
For a second, Emily forgot how to breathe. Her heart skipped, then hammered in her temples. Three years. Why now? Why did this have to shatter *their* life?
“So thats it? Youve got a son *there*, and nothing here?” Her voice sharpened. “Have you even thought about Ethan? Hes already been abandoned once!”
The ache wasnt for herselfit was for her boy. She wanted to scream, to claw at Oliver, but she clenched her fists instead. Exhaled.
“Fine. Go, then. No ones stopping you,” she said coldly, turning toward the sitting room.
She didnt want to see him. Or any man, really. Because this was history repeating itselfjust like when Ethan was still in her belly, and her first husband began drifting away. The excuses, the separate beds, the eventual confession that hed “fallen out of love.” The cruelest part? *Hed* been the one insisting on a child.
“We ought to carry on the family line,” hed said, as if they were some noble dynasty instead of an ordinary couple. Emily hadnt seen the harm in ituntil the baby arrived, and suddenly, her husband wanted no part of the “obligation.”
That day, shed sworn off fairy tales. Men came and went; children stayed. Always with the mother.
So when Oliver first appeared, she kept him at arms lengtha pleasant distraction, nothing more. A year of cautious dates: cinema trips, strolls along the Thames, the occasional dinner. But Ethan never met him. Not until Oliver began leaving sweets for the boy, fixing leaky taps while Ethan was at nursery, wearing her down with his persistence.
Then came the push for more.
“Emily, were not teenagers sneaking about,” hed said one evening. “We ought to take the next step. Live together, at least.”
“I have a son,” shed reminded him.
“So? That doesnt mean you cant have a husband too. Ethans yoursthat makes him mine as well.”
Against her better judgment, shed relented. Oliver was kind. Maybe hed be kind to Ethan, too. For a while, he was. Football in the garden, mending broken toys, reading bedtime stories with silly voices. The first time Ethan called him “Dad,” Emily thought her heart might burst.
But then Oliver started talking about “our own child.”
“Maybe we should have one,” hed mused.
Emilys chest tightened. “We *have* Ethan. Isnt he enough?”
“Of course! But… I missed the nappies and first steps. Id like to experience it all, properly.”
Shed scoffed. Mens idea of “helping” often amounted to occasional cuddles and bragging rights. The real work? Always hers.
“Lets wait till Ethans ten,” shed deflected. Oliver took it as a yes.
And now? A secret son, suddenly more important than Ethan.
“Mum, wheres Dad?” Ethan had asked that night, small voice breaking her resolve.
She couldnt lie. Not entirely. “Hes gone away for a while.”
The truth came in pieces, each one sharper than the last. Tears. Nights spent muffling sobs into pillows. But time did its work. Six months on, Ethan stopped asking. Emily smiled again, though the scar remained.
Then the call came. Olivers voice, sheepish, pleading. “Meet me. Please.”
Her chest ached like a reopened wound. “Not at home. The park, while Ethans at school.”
They met by the rose beds, where theyd once walked as three. Rain clung to the benches; damp leaves stuck to their shoes. Oliver looked gaunt, his jacket hanging loose.
“Thank you for coming,” he began. “I… I was a fool. Give me another chance.”
Then he knelt, fumbling with a ring box. The diamond glittered.
“Forgive me. I see nowI believed her lies. She said I had no right to discipline him, that he wasnt mine. I insisted on a DNA test…” His voice cracked. “He isnt.”
Emily turned away. Another “not his.” Another womans desperation, perhapsbut it didnt matter.
Some part of her remembered the happiness. The plans. Ethan begging to visit “Dads” parents in the countryside. But stronger still was the memory of her sons tears, his confusion.
“Maybe Id forgive you,” she said softly. “If it were just me. But its not. I wont let Ethans heart break twice.”
“Id never hurt him”
“If you were half the man you claim, youd have helped that boy without leaving mine. Sent money. Got the test sooner. *Anything* but this.” She stepped back. “I dont trust you anymore.”
She walked deeper into the park, not glancing back. Oliver belonged to the past. Shed protected what mattered. And if he ever had children of his own? She hoped, for their sake, hed learn to stay.
