The Doubts That Shatter
Emily sat at the kitchen table, elbows propped on the worn wood, staring into the black void of the night through the window. Her eyes were weary, her face drained of colour. The quiet creak of the door made her flinch. Her mother-in-law, Margaret, stepped in, reaching for the jug of water.
“You’re up late,” Margaret said, pouring herself a glass.
“Just thinking,” Emily murmured, barely audible.
Margaret turned to leave, but Emily spoke again, voice brittle. “Please. Stay. We need to talk. Just close the door…”
Margaret stiffened, wary. “What’s happened?”
“Sit down. I… I have to tell you about Daniel.”
Margaret lowered herself onto the chair, glass clutched tight, as Emily began. With every word, the older woman paled, the horror stealing her voice.
“No, Emily, I won’t throw you out in the dead of night. You and the boy can leave in the morning. I’ll be up for work—you can wake me then.”
“Couldn’t we postpone the renovations? David and I could stay at the cottage in summer. It’s freezing now… And Daniel’s due back soon—”
“Out of the question. Prices will soar by summer, and I refuse to live in dust.”
“There’ll still be dust,” Emily ventured carefully.
“And your things need moving, like I said. Don’t play the martyr. My son took you in—least you could do is keep quiet.”
“But he’s your grandson!” Emily blurted.
“Is he?” Margaret’s lip curled. “Daniel has a daughter with that woman he met up north. *She’s* my granddaughter. This one… Well, that’s yet to be proven.”
Emily froze. The words were a knife to the ribs.
“He’s almost four. You bring this up *now*? Where do you expect us to go?”
Margaret shrugged. “Not my concern.”
Emily had met Daniel five years ago. Not handsome, but steady. Past the age of fairy tales—both hardened by life. She, a school dinner lady; he, a labourer gone for months at a time. When she fell pregnant, he married her swiftly, no fuss—just a trip to the registry office.
They lived under Margaret’s roof. She resented the intrusion—a strange woman, heavy with child, ruining her solitude. The singing in the bath, the creaking floors, then the wails of an infant. Worse still, her son now spent less time tending her garden.
Worst of all, she doubted Emily’s motives. A gold digger, surely. And the boy—was he even Daniel’s?
Now, with renovations looming, Margaret had issued her ultimatum: Emily and the child must leave. Emily protested—nowhere to go. An aunt had offered, but Margaret wouldn’t budge. Every trace of the boy—the toys, the scent of baby food—gnawed at her.
When Daniel vanished from contact, Emily panicked. This wasn’t like him. She waited till morning. His phone was dead.
“He never switches it off,” she said, gripping the counter. “Something’s wrong.”
“Probably asleep,” Margaret muttered. “Stop fussing.”
“We text *every day*. This isn’t normal.”
“Ring his work. Go on.”
Emily dialled. Moments later, she went ghostly white.
“He’s in hospital. Collapsed… They took him in.”
“What?!” Margaret sagged onto a chair. “Who knows?”
“His… ex-wife. She was informed. Not us.”
“I’ll go—”
“No, you’ve the builders coming. I’ll leave David with my aunt and see him myself.”
Three weeks later, Emily returned with Daniel. Frail, slurred speech—a stroke had left him weak. But he joked, fought to move his left side.
Emily never left his side. Hunting specialists, arranging rehab, surviving on three hours’ sleep—her every breath was for him.
One night, as Margaret dried dishes, Emily spoke softly.
“I’ll tell you everything. Just… don’t tell him.”
And she did: Daniel had gone to visit his ex—to see his daughter. But a stranger opened the door, a boy with his dimples and fair hair. The truth spilled out—this man was the real father. Daniel had been convenient.
He sat on a park bench, and his heart gave out.
“So…,” Margaret whispered, “my granddaughter… isn’t?”
“Exactly.”
After that, Margaret watched Emily differently. Saw her relentless care—massaging his hand, researching treatments, foregoing sleep. Where was the scheming outsider now?
One evening, as Emily typed furiously at her laptop, Margaret turned.
“Tell me honestly. Is David—Daniel’s son?”
Emily didn’t answer at first. Then she looked up.
“The truth’s right in front of you. We started dating under your roof. Maybe I wasn’t madly in love, but I chose him. And I’ve never betrayed him. Do you really need tests to see that?”
Margaret broke. Tears spilled as she pulled Emily into a fierce embrace.
“Forgive me. Foolish old woman. I couldn’t see what was right before me.”
Emily wept too. “And forgive me. I’m no saint. But we’re family. Aren’t we?”
Just then, Daniel shuffled in.
“What’s all this? What’s happened?”
“Happy tears, love,” Margaret smiled. “Because everything’s alright.”
“Women…,” Daniel chuckled. “Cry when it’s bad, cry when it’s good—”
“At least we keep it lively!” Emily laughed, hugging him. Margaret winked.
“And above all—solid.”
