Alright, lets do a DNA test, I said with a smile to my motherinlaw. And perhaps your husband should check whether hes really the father of your son.
Alright, lets do a DNA test, I repeated, turning to Margaret. But let your husband also verify that hes truly the father of your child.
Its strange, Henry doesnt look like us at all, Margaret remarked the moment we crossed the threshold of the flat after my maternity leave.
I froze, clutching the baby bag. Had she really decided to bring this up now?
Eleanor, thats enough, Edward Parker, my fatherinlaw, interrupted gently. He guided Margaret into the spare room and shot me a sympathetic glance.
I was left alone with Henry. Not alike? I whispered, looking at my son: light brown hair, blue eyes, a tiny button nose. He was a spitting image of my own grandfather when he was a boy. Id have to ask my mother for some old photographs for comparison.
My reverie was broken by my mothers voice from the balcony. She was on the phone, evidently with my father.
Your grandson has been born, and you havent even turned up! she snapped, slamming the receiver. Seeing me, she sighed.
Sorry, love, Ive ruined your day. I was hoping your dad would come, but even a grandson doesnt distract him from his pint.
Its alright, Mum, I hugged her. Its not your fault.
That evening, the closest family gathered around the festive table. Margaret barely held back her displeasure, while Edward and James tried to keep the atmosphere light. When the guests dispersed, James pulled me aside.
Thank you for giving us our son, he said.
Time flew: first steps, first words, sleepless nights. We bought a terraced house in a leafy suburb, swapped our old hatchback for a sensible sedan, and Henry started at the local nursery.
Im nervous about school, I confessed to James one night, with the meetings and the chats
Itll be fine, he reassured me.
Our peace was shattered by Margarets sudden coldness at the country cottage. She avoided Henry, eyeing him with icy suspicion.
Look at him, she hissed while we were washing dishes. Red hair, freckles Are you sure hes Jamess child?
Are you sure Edward is the father of your grandson? I shot back.
She went stiff.
How dare you! she shouted.
You too? I snapped, storming out, gathering my things, and taking Henry home.
The next day we sent off the DNA test. The results were unsurprising Henry was indeed our son. I slipped the report into my bag without telling anyone.
Margaret, however, would not let it go. At Edwards birthday, she muttered, The girls grandson is a carbon copy of his grandmother! And ours? She sneered at Henry.
I quietly produced the test results and held them up to her face.
Here you are. Your suspicions were wrong. Perhaps you should tend to the skeletons in your own closet?
Her face went pale.
A few days later James returned home, a shadow of his former self.
Eleanor he sank to the floor, clutching his head. Edward and I did a test. It turns out he isnt my father.
I embraced him, speechless.
Later Edward stopped by.
Im filing for divorce from Margaret, he declared firmly. But James, you will always be my son. Blood matters little.
James broke down, hugging Edward.
Thus our family endured the shock. Margaret was left alone, while, oddly enough, we grew stronger.
The irony was stark: had she not been so bitter, the truth might have lingered in the shadows.
Six months after Edwards divorce, life settled. James gradually moved away from his mothers infidelities, Henry spent cheerful weekends with his grandfather and dad, and I stopped flinching at every ring.
One evening, as I was washing dishes, a call came from an unfamiliar number.
Eleanor? a hoarse male voice asked uncertainly. Its your schoolmate.
The spoon clanged into the sink.
Sasha? I hadnt seen him in ten years, not since we moved to the provincial town.
We need to meet. Its important.
About what?
Its about your motherinlaw.
We met in a tiny café under an open sky.
Margaret was looking for me, Sasha said, swirling his glass of mineral water. She claimed Henry was my son because hes as redhaired as I am, and she even offered money.
What? I gasped. She really thought I gave birth to your child?
Sasha nodded. I remembered how shed once been attracted to him, how hed struggled after my marriage, even drowning his sorrows in drink.
I refused to take the tests, he said. I told her it was nonsense I cant help a child that isnt mine. And even if I still cared for you, I wouldnt wreck your family.
My hands trembled. It became clear that Margaret wasnt merely suspecting she was weaving a poisonous web to humiliate me.
I told James everything at home. He went white as a sheet.
So she lied not only to her husband she wanted to destroy my family too.
The following day Edward barged in, slamming the door.
Margaret has sued! She wants half the cottage!
On what grounds? James roared.
She says she has nothing to live on, her pension is tiny, and she wants to sell the property.
That night the phone rang. Margarets voice, sharp with hatred, cut through.
Happy now? she snarled. Youve torn the family apart. Youre the one who spoiled everything, you wretched woman!
You lied to your husband! You abandoned your grandson! I shouted.
Henry will never be my grandson, she hissed before hanging up.
A week later a letter arrived from her solicitor, demanding that Edward be barred from seeing Henry because he is not a blood relative.
Its revenge, James whispered, holding the papers. Shes clearly lost her mind.
Edward only smiled.
Let her try.
The judge dismissed every one of her demands and, after hearing the full story, warned her about the consequences of defamation.
On the day of the final ruling, Edward produced an old photograph: a young James perched on his shoulders, both beaming.
This is what family looks like, he said. It isnt about blood or a surname. Its about this.
Henry suddenly ran over and hugged his grandfather tightly.
Youre the best! he exclaimed.
Margaret was left utterly alone.
A year later we happened to spot her in a park, sitting on a bench, eyes vacant. Henry, who bore no grudges, waved at her.
She turned away.
Do you feel sorry for her? James asked.
No, I replied honestly. Its a pity for the people she hurt.
We walked on, heading toward Edward, who was pushing Henry on a swing.
We had found our true family.
The lesson was clear: blood may tie us by name, but love, loyalty, and kindness are the threads that truly bind us together.
