Maybe its time I finally meet your son? David set his mug of tea aside and looked at Amelia.
She froze, as if his words had caught her offguard.
Why rush it? her voice was light, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed the turmoil inside. Max is only just getting used to the idea that his mum has someone.
Weve been seeing each other for four months, David reminded gently. Im not asking you to move in or pretend were a happy family overnight. I just want to know the little boy who means so much to you.
Amelia turned toward the window.
Hes only seven. I dont want to hurt Max
Hurt? David protested. Amelia, understand me. If you intend to keep me at arms length, what kind of relationship can that be?
She faced him, a flicker of fear flashing in her eyes before vanishing like a trick of light.
Fine. In a couple of weeks, okay? Just give me time to prepare him.
David nodded. Two weeks stretched into nearly three months. Every time a new excuse popped up: Max fell ill, had a test, was in a bad mood. Then, one Saturday, Amelia called and asked him to come over.
The boy was thin, darkeyed, far too serious for his age. He sat on the sofa clutching a toy car, eyes darting warily.
Hey, David sat beside him, keeping a respectful distance. Thats a cool ride youve got there.
Max stared, silent, studying him.
Max, speak up, Amelia said from the doorway, arms crossed.
Hello, the boy whispered.
David didnt press. He pulled out his phone and showed a picture of his own classic Mini.
Thats the one I drive. Want to go for a spin sometime?
Maxs eyes lit, but he glanced quickly at his mother.
Can I?
Well see, Amelia replied evasively.
Gradually the ice cracked. Amelia softened, allowing David to take Max on outings. He whisked the boy to parks, the London Zoo, the cinema. He bought the toys Max asked for, explained how engines work, showed him how to drive a nail and hold a screwdriver.
Look, you turn clockwise here, David guided Maxs tiny hand. Feel the thread moving?
Yeah, Max stuck out the tip of his tongue in concentration. What if I turn the wrong way?
Then you unscrew it, David smirked. No big deal, just start again.
They spent hours tinkering with the car. Max handed over tools, asked a flood of questions, got oil on his elbows and beamed with pride. In the evenings they played board games while Amelia cooked dinner.
Fishing became their routine. Every second Sunday they drove to the River Thames, set their rods, and waited as the floats bobbed. Max learned to thread a worm, to wait patiently, to give a clean pull.
Dad, Ive got a bite! he shrieked when the float plunged.
Stay calm, dont jerk, David guided. Reel in smoothly, like this.
A modest carp emerged, but the triumph on Maxs face was worth any trophy.
At home they watched action movies that Amelia only allowed with Davids supervision. Max would snuggle beside them, comment on every scene.
Thats impossible, right? That never happens in real life, hed say as the hero took on a dozen foes.
They do exaggerate for spectacle, David agreed. But the point isnt the fighting; its protecting those you love.
Max nodded thoughtfully.
When math started giving Max trouble at school, David stepped in. His background in engineering and finance made the explanations click.
I dont get these stupid fractions, Max frowned at the page.
Try this: imagine you have a pizza, David took a sheet of paper. You eat half. Thats onehalf. Got it?
Yeah.
Now cut the pizza into four slices and eat one.
Onequarter?
Exactly. Now solve the problem thinking of pizza.
Max focused. Five minutes later a correct answer appeared in his notebook.
Got it!
See? Youre brilliant, David ruffled his hair.
Grades climbed. At the parentteacher evening, the teacher praised Maxs progress, and Amelias eyes shone with pride.
Its all thanks to David, she told friends. He spends so much time with Max.
David grew attached to the boy. He woke each morning wondering how to make Maxs day brighter, planning weekend trips, buying presents, worrying about every failing grade more than Max himself. Love crept in unnoticed but rooted deep.
When Max turned ten, David finally broached a serious talk with Amelia.
Lets get married, he said one evening.
Amelia snapped the magazine shut, her eyes wide.
What?
Were practically a family, David continued. I love you and Max. Why wait?
Amelias face hardened.
No.
Why not? he asked, expecting any answer but not that blunt denial.
Because Ive already been married. Ive had enough.
Im not your exhusband.
I know, her voice softened. But I dont want to tie myself down again. Im fine as I am. Are you not happy?
David sighed. He wasnt unhappy, but he wanted more.
Fine, lets stay as we are.
Years slipped by. They lived together in Amelias flat, holidayed on the coast in summer and the Lake District in winter. David covered most of the bills, never asking for anything back. He occasionally nudged the wedding topic, but Amelia refused stubbornly.
Maybe we could have another child? he asked when Max turned thirteen.
Amelia stared at the ceiling, silent for a long moment.
I have health issues. Doctors say itd be risky.
We could see a specialist.
No, David. I dont want any more children. Max is enough.
David didnt push. He accepted her decision, though a quiet resentment smouldered inside.
Eight years into their arrangement, things changed. Amelia began nitpicking everything: the way he washed dishes, how loudly he spoke, even the toothpaste cap left slightly ajar.
You always do everything wrong, she snapped one night as he walked in from work.
What exactly?
Everything!
David tried to smooth things over, helped more around the house, watched his every move, but Amelia seemed to be hunting for reasons to argue.
Maybe you need a break? he suggested. Lets get away, just the two of us.
No, she cut him off. I dont want that!
Max sensed the tension, kept to himself, tried not to draw attention. It pained David to watch his son caught between them.
The truth unfolded by accident. David returned home early and found a strangers jacket in the hallway a mans. His heart dropped.
Amelia?
She bolted from the bedroom, slamming the door behind her. David caught a glimpse of a man in their bed.
David, its not what you think.
Really? he asked hoarsely. How long?
She lowered her gaze, silence hanging.
Answer me!
Three months.
Three months of constant nitpicking, of provocation.
So thats why, David said slowly. You were pushing me out, making me feel guilty.
I never wanted to hurt you, Amelia whispered. I just found someone else and turned our life into a nightmare?
He gathered his things in twenty minutes. Max hovered nearby.
Dad, are you leaving?
David sat beside him, took his shoulders.
Max, Ill always be here. You call, Ill be there. Well still see each other like before.
Promise?
I promise.
Amelias final blow came a week later.
Dont ever contact my son again.
What? Amelia, have you lost your mind?
If you try, Ill sue. Youre nothing to him, understand? No rights whatsoever.
Her voice was cold, clinical, as if he were just a footnote.
Ive raised him for eight years!
And what? Youre not his father. Youre nobody! Legally, Max is yours no more.
She hung up.
David tried calling Max, but the line was dead. He texted, got no reply. Three days later a brief message arrived: Mum said I cant talk to you. Sorry.
He longed for the boy who had become his son. Time moved on.
A call from an unknown number cut through his cooking.
Dave? Its me.
Max! Thank God, Ive missed you!
Im twentyone now. Mum cant stop me anymore.
They met at a café. Max had grown taller, broadershouldered, but his dark, earnest eyes remained.
How are you?
Getting by, the young man replied with a grin. Mums a nightmare. She argues every day, says you ruined her.
Me?
Yeah, she says you made her a bad kid. Im a bit of a rebel now because of her.
A month later Max called at two in the morning.
I cant stay at home any longer. Can I crash at yours?
Of course, come over.
Amelia raged, calling Max, screaming, begging him to return. He ignored her calls. Their contact dwindled to holiday greetings and occasional polite exchanges.
By twentytwo Max had changed dramatically. He started calling David Dad. He rented a modest flat nearby.
Dad, I want to buy a car, he said recently. Can you help pick one?
Absolutely.
They spent a Saturday touring dealerships, weighing pros and cons, just like old times.
Then David met Eleanor, a warmhearted accountant who loved cooking and reading.
I have an adult son, he warned her straightaway. Not by blood, but he means the world to me.
Eleanor smiled.
I adore children. Will you introduce him?
Max was initially wary, but Eleanor never tried to replace his mother or come between him and David. She simply was there, cooking hearty meals, sharing jokes.
Shes good, Max admitted. Not like my mum.
David and Eleanor married quietly, no grand ceremony. Six months later Eleanor announced she was pregnant.
Youll be a dad again, she said, holding up a test.
David, fortyfive, stared at the two lines, disbelief flashing across his face.
Really?
Its real.
Max cheered as loudly as any brother would.
Im getting a little brother or sister! Dad, thats awesome!
You okay with that?
Max furrowed his brow, then smiled.
Why wouldnt I be? Im thrilled for you. Youve earned this.
He helped assemble the cot, paint the walls. The family felt whole at last.
Amelias messages, now laced with insults, kept coming. David blocked the numbers, but she kept buying new ones, relentless.
I dont get why shes so angry, he confessed to Eleanor one night. I did nothing wrong. I just love Max.
Shes mad because she lost control, Eleanor replied. Max chose you. She cant forgive that.
But Im not at fault!
Of course not. Youre the real father he needed.
Life settled into a rhythm. A baby was on the way, sleepless nights loomed, first steps and first words awaited. Max, now a man, called him Dad and prepared to be the best older brother imaginable.
Amelia could write anything she wanted. David knew the truth. He hadnt stolen a child from her; he simply loved the boy and cared for him. And he still does, even now that Max is an adult. If this were a crime, hed be ready to face any punishment.
