“I Gave Birth to Your Son, But We Don’t Want Anything From You” – The Mistress’s Call That Changed Everything Her husband looked at Lera like a beaten dog. “Yes, you heard right. Lera, I had someone else half a year ago. Just a few meetings, honestly. A fling, nothing more. And she had my son. Just recently…” Lera’s head was spinning—what a revelation! Her loyal, loving husband had a child on the side! It took all Lera’s focus to process what her husband had just told her. Minutes passed as she tried to comprehend. Her husband sat opposite her, shoulders slumped, hands clasped between his knees. He seemed smaller than usual, as if all the air had been sucked out of him. “A son, then,” Lera repeated. “So, you, a married man, have a son. And it wasn’t your wife who gave birth. Not me…” “Lera, I swear, I didn’t know—not until she decided to keep him. We split up months ago, she went back to her husband. I thought it had all ended. But yesterday, I got a call: ‘You have a son. Seven pounds. Healthy.’ And she hung up.” Lera stood; her legs felt weak, as if she’d just finished a marathon. Autumn raged outside—the scene out the window was beautiful, she noticed. “So what now?” she asked without turning. “I don’t know,” her husband replied. “Great answer, for a real man. The head of the family. ‘I don’t know.’” She spun around sharply. “Are you going to see them? The baby?” A frightened Nick looked at her from under his brow, embarrassed. “She wrote down the hospital’s address and told me the date of discharge. She said: ‘Come if you want. If not, don’t bother. We don’t need anything from you.’ Proud woman… She said she wanted nothing.” “Noble. Nothing at all, eh?” Lera echoed, irony in her voice. The front door banged—the older kids were home. Instantly, Lera pasted on a professional smile—a survival skill honed in the business world. Their eldest poked his head into the kitchen, tall and broad-shouldered. “Hey, you two. Why the gloomy faces? Mum, is there anything to eat? We’re starving from training.” “Manty in the fridge, heat it up,” Lera called. “Dad, you promised to look at my old car’s carburettor,” piped up the younger son. Lera watched them, heart tightening painfully. They called him Dad. Their real father had vanished years before, leaving only limping cheques and the odd Christmas card. Nick had raised them—taught them to drive, patched up knees, handled school crises. He was their father, truly. Nick managed a weak smile. “I’ll take a look, later. Let me finish talking with your mom.” After the boys left, Lera said quietly, “They love you. And you—” “Stop, Lera. I love them too. They’re my lads. I’m not going anywhere.” “It was a stupid mistake. Just a bit of fun. There was nothing real.” “Yeah, just a bit of fun—leading to nappies and milk bottles!” Lera snapped. Suddenly, six-year-old Masha flew into the room, breaking Lera’s last defences. She leapt into her father’s lap. “Daddy! Why are you sad? Did mum tell you off?” He hugged her tight, burying his face in her blonde hair. Lera knew he would do anything for their daughter. His love was total, unconditional. “No, princess. We’re just discussing grown-up things. Go watch some cartoons—I’ll be there in a moment.” When Masha skipped out, silence filled the kitchen again. “You realise everything changes now?” Lera asked, as she sat. Nick shook his head. “I’m not leaving. I love you. The kids. I can’t live without you all—” “Those are just words, Nick. The fact is: you have a son out there. He’ll need a father. That woman—she says she needs nothing, for now. Give it a month—or a year. The child will need things. You’ll get a call: ‘Nick, he needs a winter coat. Nick, the doctor said—’ And you’ll go. Because you’re kind. And you’ll find the money.” She watched as he flinched. Nick’s business had collapsed; Lera’s income supported the whole family, even his credit cards were in her name. “And the money, Nick? Where will you get it?” “I’ll manage somehow,” he muttered. “How? Late-night Uber jobs? Or dipping into my purse to fund your love child’s upkeep? Can you picture the absurdity—me supporting our family, while you use my money to support your lover’s baby?” “She isn’t a lover!” “Babies tie people together stronger than marriage certificates, Nick. Are you going to the hospital?” Nick rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t know, Lera. Honestly. Morally, I feel I should. The baby’s not to blame.” “Oh, I see—‘morally.’ And what about us? Your moral duty to Masha? The boys?” Lera’s voice quivered. “If you go, you’ll hold him—you’ll melt. I know you. First weekly visits, then weekends. You’ll lie to me—more time spent away. We’ll wait here, for you…” She stood at the sink, turning the tap on and off, trying to collect herself. “She’s eight years younger, Nick. Thirty-two. She gave you a son, your own flesh and blood. My sons aren’t even yours by blood, though you raised them. But that one—he shares your blood. Don’t you think that matters?” Nick snapped, standing up. “Enough! I said I’m staying in the family. But I’m not heartless. My child was born—I can’t turn away. I’m in the wrong—but don’t blackmail me!” Lera froze, fear gripping her. If she told him to go, he would. Proud—stupidly proud. He’d go, penniless, to that other woman—where he’d be welcomed as a hero. And then she’d lose him for good. But she didn’t want to lose him. Despite the pain, the burning humiliation—she still loved Nick. And their children loved him. “All right. Sit down,” she said, quietly. “No one’s making you go.” He sat, breathing hard. “Lera, forgive me. I’m so bloody stupid.” “You are. But you’re our idiot,” she replied softly. The evening passed in a haze. Lera helped Masha with her schoolwork, did her own work—but couldn’t stop imagining the other woman. Young, beautiful, victorious. “We don’t want anything,” she’d said—playing the noble card. It wrenched something deep in Nick—a man’s pride. Of course he’d want to rush over. That night, Nick tossed and turned, while Lera lay awake. She was forty-five. Still beautiful and successful—but not young anymore. Youth was always waiting on the horizon, somewhere else. *** Morning was worse—Lera was still in a state. The boys gobbled breakfast and left. Masha, for once, was fussy. “Daddy, plait my hair! Mum always does it lopsided!” Nick took the comb. His big hands, more at home with a steering wheel or hammer, deftly parted and plaited thin blonde hair with determined concentration, tongue poking out. Lera drank her coffee, watching. Here he was—her husband. Familiar, warm, entirely hers. But somewhere out there was another child, who had as much claim on him. How could this be? “Nick,” she said when Masha ran off to dress. “We have to decide. Now.” He set the hairbrush down. “I thought about it all night,” he said. “And?” “I won’t go to the hospital.” Lera’s stomach twisted, though she didn’t show it. “Why?” “Because if I go, I’ll give her hope. I’ll give myself hope. And the baby, too. I can’t be a dad to two families. I don’t want to lie to you, or take time from Masha and the lads. I made my choice eleven years ago. You’re my wife; this is my family.” “And the other boy?” She was surprised at herself for asking. “I’ll support him. Financially—through proper channels, maintenance, a bank account, whatever she needs. But not visits—no. He’ll grow up not knowing me, rather than waiting for me on Sundays. That’s fairer.” Lera turned her wedding ring. “Are you sure? Won’t you regret it later?” “Of course I will. I’ll wonder about him, worry. But if I go there—I’ll lose all of you. You couldn’t bear it, and I don’t want you to hate me. I know my explanation’s messy…” He got up, came behind her, and laid his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t want another life. I have you, and the children. The rest—that’s the price for my mistakes. I’ll pay, but only with money. I can’t share my time, my care, my attention with that baby. Not now.” Lera covered his hand with hers. “Money, you say?” she half-smiled. “I’ll earn it. I’ll break myself to earn it. I won’t touch a penny of yours. This is my mess to clear up, Lera.” Lera felt a calm settle. Maybe he’d done wrong by her. But these were the words she needed: she wouldn’t share her husband—she didn’t care a jot about the feelings of “the other woman.” She got what she got—the consequences were hers. *** Nick never went to the hospital. For weeks after, the mistress bombarded his phone—angry, pleading, accusing him of not showing up. Nick made it clear: she could count on financial help, nothing more. After that, the mistress vanished. She never called again. And for Lera, that was all she wanted.

I’ve given birth to your son, but we want nothing from you, the mistress said when she rang.

My husband looked at me with the expression of a whipped dog.

Yes, you heard right, Clara, he told me. About six months ago…I had a fling. Nothing serious. Only a few meetings, justfoolish fun. But she’s had a baby boy. Only recently.

I felt dizzy, as if the world had slipped off its axis. My faithful, loving husbandfather to someone else’s child? I could barely comprehend what he’d just said.

For several moments, I just stood there failing to grasp his meaning. He sat across from me, hunched, shoulders drooping, fingers clasped between his knees. He seemed shrunken, as if all the breath had gone out of him.

So, a son, then, I said slowly. You, a married man, have had a son. And not with your wife. Not with me. The words were cold in my mouth.

Clara, I swear to you, I didn’t even know, he stammered.

Didn’t know how babies are made, Edward? You’re forty.

I didnt know she’d go through with it. We broke it off ages agoshe went back to her husband. I thought all was well. Then, yesterday, she calls: Youve a son, seven pounds, healthy. Then hung up. There was a curious note of defeat in his voice.

I got to my feetmy legs felt like jelly, knees trembling as though Id sprinted a marathon. Autumn raged beyond the window; gold and red leaves whirled in the wind. Oddly, I caught myself admiring the landscape. Beautiful, in a way.

So. And what then? I asked, not turning.

I… I don’t know, he said quietly.

A splendid answer from the man of the house. I don’t know. I spun on my heel. Will you go? To see them?

Edward raised his eyes to me, sheepish and frightened. She wrote the address of the hospital, said shes being discharged the day after tomorrow. She said: Come if you want, dont if you dont. We need nothing from you. So proud…

Nothing from you, I echoed. How simple people can be.

At that moment, the front door clatteredour older boys were home. I pasted on a smile. Business years taught me to keep up appearances, even when things fell apart.

Our eldest poked his head into the kitchenbroad-shouldered, twenty, the very picture of youth. Hello, folks! You both look like you swallowed a lemon. Mum, is there anything to eat? Were starving after training.

There are pasties in the fridge, warm them up, I called.

Dad, you said youd look at the carburetor on my old motor after supper, the younger chimed in, giving Edward a hearty clap on the shoulder.

I watched, heart twisting until it hurt to breathe. They called him Dad. Their real father had faded away years ago, now only sending the odd Christmas card and paltry support.

Edward had raised them. Hed taught them to drive, plastered their knees, attended school meetings, sorted their scrapes. He was their father in every sense that mattered.

Edward forced a smile. Ill look later, Samuel. Let me speak with your mother for a minute.

The boys left clattering dishes behind them. They love you, I said quietly. And you…

Don’t, Clara. I love them, too. They’re my lads. Im not going anywhere. I told youall of this was a stupid mistake. A madness. It meant nothing.

Nothing? Well, its nappies and night-feeds now…

Suddenly, Martha, all of six years old, burst in, cracking the shell around my heart. She flung herself onto Edwards lap.

Daddy! Why are you sad? Did Mummy scold you?

He hugged her tight, burying his nose in her golden hair. She was his world. I knew hed do anything for Marthahis love for her was absolute and fierce.

No, princess. We’re just talking about grown-up things. Go turn on your cartoons, Ill come along soon.

When Martha had scampered off, silence hung in the kitchen once again.

You realise everything’s changed now? I asked, taking my seat again.

Im not leaving, Clara. I love you and the childrenwithout you all, Id be lost.

Words, Edward. Facts are these: you’ve got a son elsewhere. He’ll need a father. She says she needs nothing nowit’s the hormones, a plan, or euphoria. Give it some monthshell get ill, grow, want for things. Shell ring: Edward, weve no winter coat, or Edward, we need a doctor. And off youll go. Youre kind. You care.

He said nothing.

And money, Edward? I pressed, lowering my voice. Where will you get that?

He flinched. His business had collapsed two years before, and it was my earnings that kept the family afloat. He took what work he could get, but it wasnt much compared to what I providedhouse, car, holidays, educationmy doing. His accounts still blocked, he operated almost entirely on cash or borrowed my card.

Ill manage, he muttered.

How? Drive a minicab nights? Or will you take money from my bedside table to support that woman and her child? Do you see the absurdity? I keep this family; you support her with my money?

Shes not…that sort of woman! he snapped. It was over long ago. Over.

A child binds people together tighter than any marriage certificate. Will you go for the discharge?

The question hung between us. Edward rubbed his face.

I don’t know, Clara. Honestly. I probably should, humanly. The child isnt to blame.

Humanly, I laughed wryly. And what about humanity toward me? To Martha? To the boys? Youll go, see the little thing, take him in your arms, and that will be the start of it. I know you. Youll want to visit, at first weekly, then weekends. Youll pretend youre busy at work and leave us here, waiting.

I stood and ran the cold tap, watching the water run, then switched it off.

Shes eight years younger than I am, Ed. Thirty-two. Shes given you a son. Your own, blood. My boys, you raisedyesbut theyre not yours by blood, and she… shes got your line. Doesnt that matter?

Youre talking nonsense. Theyre my sons, I brought them up.

Oh, stop. Men always want an heir, their own.

We have Martha!

Marthas a girl, Ed…

Edward leapt up. Enough! Why all this before anythings been decided? Im staying. But I can’t cut it off entirely. Thats a living person. Yes, my own. Theres blame on me every way. Look, if you want me to go, Ill pack my bag right now, head to my mothers, a hostel, anywhere. But dont try to blackmail me!

Suddenly, I was frightened. If I said go, hed go. Proud as a lionfoolish and proud. Hed go, penniless, homeless, and soon shed take him in. Over there, hed be a rescuer, a father, poor but needed, and Id lose him completely.

But I didnt want to lose him. For all my hurt and anger, I loved him. So did our children.

Breaking is easyone word and everything collapses. But how does one go on living in an empty home, with every corner reminding you of whats been lost?

Sit down, I whispered. Im not throwing you out.

He hesitated, breathing heavily, then sat.

Clara, forgive me. Ive been an idiot

Yes, I agreed, but youre my idiot.

That evening passed in a bewildering haze. I did homework with Martha, checked work papers, but my thoughts wandered always. I imagined the other womanpretty, surely, young. Smiling at her new son and thinking shed triumphed. Needs nothing!oh, such dignity! The cleverest playnot asking, not crying, simply showing: You have a son. We are proud. Well manage alone.

Theres no faster way to prick a mans pride. Suddenly, he aches to be a hero.

Edward tossed and turned that night, troubledwhile I stared wide-eyed into the dark. Forty-five, successful, attractive, but time was creeping forward. And there, on the other side, was youth…

***

Morning brought no relief. I was struggling to pull myself together. The boys ate quickly and left, and Martha, for once, began to pout.

Daddy, plait my hair! she insisted, Mummys always lopsided.

Edward took the comb. His large, capable handsso deft with spanners and steering wheelshandled her fine blonde hair with care. He worked in silence, tongue poking from concentration.

I sipped my coffee, watching him. My husband: warm, real, so painfully familiar. And somewhere, another child, equally entitled to him. How could that be?

Edward, I said quietly, as soon as Martha ran off to dress, We need to settle this. Now.

He set down the comb. I thought all night.

And?

I wont go for the discharge.

A tightness gripped my heart, though I kept it hidden. Why?

Because if I go, Ill give hopeto her, to myself, to that baby. I cant be a father in two homes. I dont want it, Clara! I wont lie to you; I wont steal time from Martha or the boys. I made my choice eleven years ago. You are my wife, this is my family.

And the boy? I surprised myself, asking.

Ill help, in moneythrough proper channels or an account. But I wont visit. Its better he grows up not knowing me, than waiting for weekends, me forever torn between two families. Thats more honest.

I said nothing, twisting my wedding ring.

Youre sure? You wont regret it later? I finally asked.

Ill probably regret, yes. Ill wonder about him for years, but if I start going there, Ill lose you all. You wont endure it. Youre strong, Clara, but everyone has limits. Youll start to hate me. And I cannot bear being hated by you. God, Im explaining this all wrong

He stood and, coming up behind me, laid his hands on my shoulders.

Clara, I dont want another life. I have you, the children. That is enough. The rest… Its my punishment. Ill pay with money, but only thatwith no time, no tenderness, no attention for that child

I covered his hand with my own.

Money, you say? I attempted a lopsided smile.

Ill earn it. Break myself if I must, but Ill earn it. I swear Ill never take another penny for my own mistakes from you again, Clara.

At last, I felt peace return. Perhaps he hadnt been fair to me, but these were the words Id waited for. I had no intention of sharing my husband; the other womans feelings meant nothing. Shed had a child by a married manlet her bear the consequences.

***

Edward never went to the discharge. In the end, the mistress bombarded him with callsyelling, crying, demanding why he hadnt come. Financial help is all I can offer, Edward told her plainly. No meetings.

After that, she vanished, and for half a year, she hasnt resurfaced or rung againher number out of service. That suits me very well.