“You must give the child to us. We are his real parents,” the strangers said at the doorstep.
“Mum, can I skip school tomorrow? My head hurts again!” Alex stood in the kitchen doorway, gripping the frame.
Emily turned away from the stove, where she was stirring soup. Her son did look pale, with dark circles under his eyes.
“Again? Alex, thats the third time this week. Maybe we should see a doctor?”
“Dont need a doctor. Just tired. Can I stay home?”
“Well see in the morning. Go finish your homework.”
“I already did.”
“All of it? Even maths?”
“Even maths.”
Emily walked over and pressed her hand to his forehead. No fever, but lately, hed been so sluggish, lost in thought. He used to be restless, always movingnow he sat by the window for hours, staring.
“Alex, is everything okay at school? No ones bullying you?”
“Everythings fine, Mum. Just a headache.”
He shuffled back to his room. Emily returned to the stove, but unease clung to her. Eight years raising a child, and you think you know them inside outthen suddenly, something shifts, and you cant place it.
That evening, her husband James came home, exhausted from his shift, but the worry on her face made him tense.
“Whats wrong?”
“Alex complained about his head again. Third time this week.”
“Then he should see a doctor.”
“I told him. He refuses. Maybe hes just worn out? End of term, exams.”
James went to talk to Alex. Emily heard their hushed conversation. When he returned, he sat at the table.
“Says hes fine. But he agreed to see the doctor tomorrow.”
“Good. Ill call in the morning.”
At dinner, Alex barely touched his food. Poked at his mash, sipped tea, then asked to go to bed. Emily and James exchanged glances.
“Maybe hes got a crush?” James suggested. “Happens at that age.”
“Hes too young. Only eight.”
“Kids grow up fast these days.”
Emily cleared the table, washing dishes while her thoughts spiralled. Had something happened at school? Was he seriously ill?
That night, she checked on him repeatedly. Alex tossed in his sleep, murmuring. She adjusted his duvet, stroked his hair. He blinked awake.
“Mum?”
“Sleep, sweetheart. Its alright.”
“Mum do you love me?”
“Of course I do. More than anything.”
“What if what if Im not yours?”
Emily froze.
“Dont be silly, Alex. Of course youre mine. Go back to sleep.”
He turned to the wall. She left, but sleep wouldnt come. Where would an eight-year-old get such thoughts?
In the morning, Alex got up without prompting. Ate breakfast, packed his bag.
“Mum, Im going to school. Heads better.”
“Sure? We could still see the doctor.”
“Dont need to. Im fine.”
He dashed off before she could react. Through the window, she watched him hurry down the street.
The day passed normallywork, errands, cookingbut dread nagged at her. She almost called his teacher, but didnt want to seem paranoid.
At three, the doorbell rang. A man and woman stood therestrangers. The man, tall and dark-haired, looked about forty. The woman was younger, pretty, but tense.
“Hello,” the man said. “Are you Emily Carter?”
“Yes. Who are you?”
“Im David Harper. This is my wife, Sarah. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
He glanced at Sarah. She nodded, as if steeling herself.
“About your son. About Alex.”
Emily stiffened.
“What about him? Did something happen at school?”
“No, schools fine May we come in? Its a long conversation.”
“I dont know you. Whats this about?”
Sarah stepped forward, eyes brimming.
“Please. Its important. You you need to give him to us. Were his real parents.”
Emily recoiled. Her ears rang.
“What? Thats ridiculous! Alex is *my* son!”
“Listen,” David pulled papers from a folder. “We have proof. Eight years ago, there was a mix-up at the hospital. Babies were switched.”
“Get out! Now! Or Ill call the police!”
“Emily, please,” Sarahs voice cracked. “We raised a child too. Loved him. Then we found out”
“Found out *what*?”
“Our sonthe boy we raisedhe fell ill. Needed a blood transfusion. The blood types didnt match. Not mine, not Davids. We did a DNA test.”
Emily gripped the doorframe. Her legs wobbled.
“And?”
“He isnt biologically ours. We investigated, checked hospital records. Only two boys born that nightours and yours.”
“This is some mistake.”
“We tested the boy we raised. Then we got a sample from your son.”
“How? When?”
David looked away.
“Sorry. We followed him for days. Took a juice carton he threw out. Enough for the test.”
“You *stalked* my child? Thats illegal!”
“We had to know. The test matched. Alex is our biological son.”
Emilys vision swam. She stumbled to a chair in the hall. The strangers lingered at the door.
“Show me the documents.”
David handed over the folderDNA results, hospital records. Emily scanned them, but the words blurred.
“This cant be real.”
“We didnt want to believe it either,” Sarah whispered. “Eight years. Eight years I raised someone elses child.”
“Hes *not* someone elses!” David snapped. “Daniels our son. Not by blood, but ours. We love him.”
“And we love Alex,” Emily looked up. “Were not giving him up.”
“But hes *ours* by blood”
“By *blood*? Who raised him? Who stayed up when he teethed? Sat by his bed with chickenpox? Took him to school, helped with homework, read him stories?”
“We understand,” David crouched beside her. “Truly. Our situations the same. Daniel hes ours. But”
“But *what*?”
“Wed like to see Alex. And you if you want could see Daniel.”
“I dont want to see your Daniel! I have a sonAlex!”
The front door slammed. Everyone turned. James stood there, taking in the strangers, Emilys tears.
“Whats going on? Em, you okay?”
“James theyre saying Alex isnt ours.”
“Rubbish!”
David stood, offering a hand.
“David Harper. This is my wife, Sarah. Eight years ago, the hospital mixed up our babies. Your son is biologically ours. Ours is yours.”
James ignored his hand. He snatched the folder, skimmed the papers.
“What do you want?”
“We we dont know. Just to meet him.”
“Meet him and *what*? Take him?”
“No!” Sarah flinched. “Were not monsters. Theyve grown up with you. But wed like to see him sometimes.”
“Do the boys know?”
“Daniel your biological son we havent told him. Dont know how.”
“Good. And we wont tell Alex.”
“But he already knows,” Sarah said softly.
“*What*? How?”
“We dont know. Yesterday, he approached us. Just came up and said, Youre my real parents, arent you? We were stunned. He said he *felt* it. That he always knew he wasnt like you.”
Emily recalled last night. *What if Im not yours?* Thats where it came from.
“Where did he see you?”
“Weve been near his school. Watching from a distance. He mustve noticed sensed something.”
“God,” Emily covered her face. “What do we do now?”
“Lets talk calmly,” David said. “The facts: the boys were switched. Two families love their children. We need a solution that works for everyone.”
“*What* solution?” James clenched his fists. “Swap them?”
“No! Thats impossible. Theyve grown up with you. But we have rights”
“You have *no* rights!”
“Legally, we do. Biological parents.”
“Sod the law! Alex is *our* son!”
The door opened again. Silence fell. Alex walked in, eyeing the adults, his mothers tears.
“Mum, why are you crying?”
Emily lunged, hugging him.
“Nothing, love. Its okay.”
Alex peered over her shoulder at the Harpers. Sarah pressed a hand to her chest, tears spilling.
“Hello, Alex,” she whispered.
