He refused to marry the pregnant girl. His mother backed him up, but his father stood up for the unborn child.
“Dad, I’ve got news. The neighbour, Emily… she’s pregnant. It’s mine,” said James as soon as he stepped into the house.
Arthur, his father, paused for a moment before calmly replying:
“Well, marry her then.”
“Are you joking? I’m still young. I’m not ready to settle down, especially since we weren’t even really together…”
“Seriously?” Arthur scoffed. “So, you were man enough to chase after a girl, but when it comes to facing the consequences, you’re suddenly a child. Right.” Without another word, he raised his voice and called for his wife: “Margaret! Come here!”
Margaret walked into the kitchen, drying her hands on her apron.
“What’s going on?”
“Listen. Our son’s got a girl pregnant and doesn’t want to marry her. Emily, the neighbour’s daughter. She’s carrying his child, and he’s trying to weasel out of it.”
Margaret didn’t even blink. Her face hardened.
“Good. Why should we bring just anyone into this family? Girls these days are crafty—they’ll find a man with money, trap him, and then demand marriage. Who’s to say it’s even his? Let her take a test. And besides, we shouldn’t pressure James—he’s still young. He’s a man, it was hard for him to resist. But we’re not obliged to raise another man’s child.”
Arthur took a deep breath, lowering his voice.
“And what if it really is his child?”
“And if it is? Are we supposed to take responsibility? Tell her to get the tests done, and then we’ll see.”
She turned and left the kitchen, leaving Arthur alone with his son.
“You know, I was young once too,” he began. “Loved one woman, married another. Not for love—for duty. Because being a man isn’t just about passion, it’s about choices and consequences. Your mother was pregnant then. I didn’t know if I could stay with her, but I knew one thing—the child wasn’t to blame. My blood, my conscience. And you know what, James? Despite everything, I never once regretted staying.”
Three months passed. The DNA test came back clear: there was a 99.9% chance James was the father of Emily’s baby.
“So what?” Margaret scoffed when Arthur placed the paper in front of her. “Yes, he’s the father. But that doesn’t mean Emily’s moving into this house. She won’t set foot here. That’s final!”
James sat with his eyes downcast, avoiding his father’s gaze. His expression made it clear—he’d chosen his mother’s side. He clenched his fists but stayed silent.
Arthur slowly stood from the table.
“Since the two of you have made your decision, now hear mine.”
His voice was low but firm.
“As long as I’m alive, my grandchild won’t want for anything. I’ll buy land, build a house, and everything I’ve worked for will go to that child. The two of you can forget about any help from me. I won’t take part in this disgrace. James, from today, you’re no son of mine. Everything I own now belongs to that baby. You won’t see a penny.”
Margaret exploded.
“Have you lost your mind? You’d disinherit your own son?!”
Arthur didn’t answer. He simply turned and walked away, ignoring her shouts. James stood frozen, unable to believe his father meant it. But he knew one thing—when Arthur gave his word, he kept it.
