Cheated Before the Wedding Day

He Cheated Before the Wedding.

Simon had never considered himself the suspicious or paranoid sort. A seasoned builder, practical to the core, he trusted figures on estimates, blueprints, andmost of allhis own eyes. Yet, for the past half a year, a peculiar feeling had dogged him, something he couldnt quite name. When he looked at his son, Christopherat the boys fine, slightly curly hair at the nape, the deep-set eyes, the way hed laugh, tossing his head backSimon couldnt find a single hint of himself in the picture. In Madeleines family, with their thick, fair hair and round faces, boys looked different. Simons own features, rough-hewn and straightforward, seemed to have vanished altogether in this little person.

He first voiced his unease at dinner, pouring himself a cup of tea, putting it as gently as he could. Madeleine, impulsive as ever, reacted as if hed thrown the boiling water at her.

Have you lost your mind? Her teaspoon clattered onto the tiled floor. Are you suggesting a paternity test? Our boys three and a half, Simon. What do you think youre saying about me?

Im not saying anything, Maddy. He tried to keep his voice steady, but her outburst twisted something inside him. I just asked a question. Surely a man has the right to know? Its not about distrust, its about being sure.

Not about distrust, she echoed scornfully. Simon, how could you watch your sonyour son, who adores you, who comes running to your bed every morningand think: is he mine? Thats not just spiteful, thats its horrible.

She burst into tears. Christopher, in the living room watching cartoons, ran in at the sound, clinging to her legs and staring at Simon with wide, frightened eyes. Simon gave up. He wrapped his arms around them both, muttered something conciliatory, but the sense of unease only grew. The worm of doubt gnawed at him more fiercely than ever.

Another two months passed before he found the opening hed subconsciously awaited. At a routine check-up, a new paediatrician, unfamiliar to them, asked, Any hereditary conditions on the fathers side? Madeleine, with Christopher perched on her knee, assured her, No, its all clear. Then, after a pause, she added, Actually, we cant be a hundred percent certain.

Simon stood at the doorway, holding Christophers jacket. The words struck him like a slap. The doctor glanced at him and then at Madeleine, but quickly dropped the topic, moving to check Christophers temperature.

All the way home, Simon said nothing. Not until theyd reached the flat, taken off their coats, and Christopher had darted off to his toys, did Simon finally speak. This time he wasnt asking. He was insisting.

Were going to the lab tomorrow. He stood at the front door as if bracing himself in case Madeleine tried to bolt.

She froze, her cheeks now pale from the cold. Simon saw her bottom lip tremblenot with fear of being caught, but with rage.

Is this because of that silly doctor? Madeleines voice sharpened. I only said that because we cant know every single thing about your great-grandparents.

Its not the doctor. Its what I see, Simon replied. He doesnt look like me. And I think youve been lying to me for four years. Maybe longer.

How dare you!? Madeleines voice shot up, loud enough to make Christopher peek in again, clutching his stuffed rabbit. You dont trust me? Why do you need this test? Relationships need trust, Simon! Thats fundamental. And youre behaving like some jealous fool, desperate to destroy everything!

Watching Christopher press himself into his mothers side, Simon suddenly saw through her words. They were just noisea smokescreen to obscure the truth.

Go to your room, Christopher, he said softly. Tomorrow Im going to the clinic.

Madeleine stared at him for a long ten secondscontempt, pain, despair, and something else danced in her eyes. Finally, she snatched a dropped glove from the floor and hurled it onto the sideboard.

Do what you want, she spat through gritted teeth.

That night Madeleine didnt sleep in their bedroom. She lay with Christopher, and through the wall, Simon heard her weeping, and a small voice soothing, Mummy, dont cry, Mummy.

The results came a week later. Simon picked them up on his way home from a job, stopping at the lab. He didnt open the envelope in his van. He waited until the lift, under the dull light, fingers trembling. The verdict was blunt and brief, stamped on an official letterhead: Probability of paternity0.00%. In his heart of hearts, hed already known. But when the truth hit him in black and white, it robbed him of breath. He leaned his forehead against the chill of the mirrored lift and didnt move until it stopped on his floor, forcing him to face his neighbours surprised greeting.

A row erupted at home. One hed been bracing for, but it was still worse than hed imagined. Madeleine didnt deny it now. She didnt scream or fly at him. She perched at the end of the sofa, staring into space.

So what now? What do you want to hear? Yes, it happened. One nighta month before our wedding. I was scared youd find out and cancel everything. I thought it was behind us, that the main thing was us.

You thought, Simon repeated. He was still clutching the envelope, now crumpled. You thought Id raise another mans child without ever knowing? You really thought I didnt have the right to know?

What does it matter? she exploded, leaping up, her face contorted. Did you love him? Those three years? Is he a stranger to you now, just because a piece of paper says so?

It matters because every day I looked for myself in him, and every day you looked me in the eye and lied. Simons words came slowly, painfully chosen.

She tried to make it about Christopher, about his attachment, the disaster a split would mean. But Simon barely heard her. All warmth in him was gone; only anger remained.

He filed for divorce the next day. Madeleine, realising he couldnt be swayed, switched tactics. First, she pleadedlong teary messages, talk of her only loving him, that the one night meant nothing. Then, when Simon didnt reply, she started calling his mother, his sister Sarah, mutual friendstrying to build a wall of sympathy for herself, condemnation for Simon.

The worst scene took place on a weekend, when Madeleine came to his rented flat, bringing Christopher in a new jumper Simon had never seen, and a drawinga lopsided house with two stick figures, one tall, one small.

Daddy, Christopher looked up at Simon with those wide, far-too-adult eyes, so unalike his own, and Simons heart ached. This is for you. Its us.

Simon crouched down, gingerly taking the drawing and running his hand over it.

Thank you, Christopher, his voice was hoarse. Its a very good house.

Daddy, when are you coming home? Christophers lower lip quivered. Mummy cries every day. I want you there.

Madeleine stood close by in the expensive coat Simon had bought her last year, hair perfectly done but her eyes swollen from crying. He saw calculation, rather than plea, in her gaze. Shed brought Christopher as a final, desperate trump card.

Simon, she began, trembling, I know what I did was wrong. I know there’s no excuse. But look at him. Hes blameless. Hes used to you. Youre his only dad. Can you really just cut him from your life because I messed up?

Simon straightened slowly. Still holding the drawing, he looked from Christopher to his wife.

You brought him to plead your case, he said quietly. Youre using him as a shield. Thats shameful, Madeleine, even for you.

Im not! she protested, tears streaming down. He wanted to comehe misses you so much! I just want you to see: hes not at fault. He loves you. Did you not love him? Does a test wipe that out?

Love? Simon laughed bitterly, so that Madeleine flinched. Youre righthes blameless. And so am I. But I wont go back. Ill buy him clothes, leave you money, give you a month here to find a place. But as for what was, you killed that yourself, the moment you lied.

How can you be so hard? she whispered. You speak of your son as if hes a stranger.

Hes not my son, Simon cut her off. Christopher began crying, not the wailing of a spoiled child but the harsh, body-shaking sobs of someone whose world is falling apart. For a moment, Simon reached out, then stopped. He looked at his fingers, at the drawing he still clutched, and let his hand fall.

Please, go, Madeleine, he said, his voice hollow. Not in front of him.

She grabbed Christophers hand, all but dragging him out, the boy stumbling and calling out, Daddy! Daddy! The door slammed, and the silence rang. Simon slumped down, sitting on the hallway floor, staring at the picture of two stickmen holding hands.

Sarah, his sister, heard everything via their mum, whod received a call from a weeping Madeleine with tales of being thrown out with her child.

Sarah was practical yet empathetica legal advisor by career, with just enough sentiment for family woes to hit home. She showed up, uninvited, carrying shopping bags.

Have you eaten? she asked, setting the groceries down.

Yes. Simon sat across from her at the kitchen table. Dont pity me, Sarah.

Im not pitying you, she replied, though she wanted to hug him like when they were kids and hed grazed his knees. I want to understand. Are you sure this is right? I dont mean… Im not defending her, God forbid. What she did was cruel. But Christopherhes attached to you.

I know. Simon lowered his head. Yesterday she brought him here. He sobbed so hard I thought my heart would burst.

So, have you changed your mind? Sarah poured tea, slid the cup over.

Simons eyes were firm.

You know, he began slowly, Ive thought a lot about it. About our stepdad. How he raised us. We love him. Not blood, but hes our real dad. If Madeleine had told me beforebefore the wedding evenor even when she fell pregnant, I mightve forgiven her. It wouldve been my choice. Id know what I was taking on. Instead, she took that away. Every day she lied, watched me hunting for myself in his face, and stayed silent. And when I questioned, she accused me of paranoia, hystericsmade me look like the villain. She didnt just hide the truth, she used my feelings for that child against me.

But what about Christopher? Sarah asked quietly, guessing the answer.

Every time I look at him, Ill remember her deceit. How can I be a good dad while thats inside me? I dont want him to grow up among accusations and bitterness. I dont want him to turn into a living reminder of betrayal. That isnt fair on him. Hes only three and a half. Hell cope better now than if I stayed, and later, all the anger boiled over.

But her parents Sarah winced, recalling the calls pouring in from family friends. Theyre calling round, saying you abandoned them, left a woman and child on the street.

Let them talk, Simon shrugged. I gave her money, a months notice. I havent left them destitute. If her family care so much, let them take her in and help with a grandson whos not mine. Or she can find the real father. Im not obliged to carry this for another man.

And if she turns Christopher against you? When hes older, hell think you walked away.

Simon was silent for a while.

Ill pay support, he said finally. I dont have tolegally Im not the fatherbut I will. I bought him things, Ill keep up a fund for him until hes grown. Thats my decision, because I believed he was my son for three years; you dont just stop caring overnight. But I wont live with them, pretending nothing happened. If Christopher ever wants to know the truth, Ill tell him. Ill tell him what his mother did to our family.

And if she lies to him? Sarah asked.

Then thats how itll be, Simon replied with a sigh, an acceptance Sarah recognised as her brother crossing a linebeyond pain now, into mere survival. I cant be responsible for her lies. Only for my actions.

Two weeks later, Madeleine launched what Sarah privately dubbed the campaign for public sympathy. Understanding no reconciliation was forthcoming, Madeleine bicycled from friend to in-law, painting Simon as spiteful: Hes always been jealous, tormented me with suspicions, forced the test, and now hes leaving for another woman, probably someone younger.

Mrs. Parker, she sobbed into Simons mums kettle-warmed kitchen, mopping her eyes with a handkerchief shed clearly brought along for effect, he abandoned a little boy who only calls him Daddy. How can anyone call that manly? I made a mistake, yes. But hes so heartless, discarded us like rubbish. And my own parents are shocked, they dont know how to help Christopher.

Mrs. Parker listened in silence. She remembered Simon could never lie as a child, even to dodge punishment; and though she found his actions hard, she also saw honesty in them. She pitied Christophershed grown fond of him.

Madeleine, she said when the torrent of tears finally ebbed, Im not here to judge. You know Ive always treated you kindly. But I wont blame Simon, either. You shouldve told him the truth. He has a right to his feelings.

So youre taking his side? Madeleines voice went shrill. Even though hes left an innocent child?

I believe in honesty, Mrs. Parker said firmly. Your lie, your consequences. I do feel for the child, but my son need not stay with someone who lied for so long.

Furious, Madeleine stormed out. She targeted Sarah next. One evening as Sarah left work, Madeleine was waiting, tearless now but stony-faced.

Sarah, we need to talk.

Theres nothing to discuss, Madeleine. Sarah tried to step past, but Madeleine grabbed her arm.

Youre sensible, Madeleine began quickly. Youre a woman, you understand. Christopher suffers. He doesnt sleep. I’m willing to do anything to keep the family togethergo to counselling, anything. But Simon will only talk via his solicitor. Cant you talk to him? Show himChristopher misses him, we miss him.

Sarah freed her arm and studied Madeleine for a long moment, as if assessing someone faking symptoms for a sick note.

Madeleine, lets be honest. What youre really afraid of is not for Christopher; its being alone. You fear the rent, the job hunt, finding someone prepared to raise another mans child. Your parentscurrently blaming Simonwill start blaming you, daily. Youre scared to lose the stability my brother gave you. And youre using Christopher in a sordid tug-of-war to get it back. I wont be part of that.

Madeleine recoiled as if slapped, cheeks first white then flushed red.

How dare you? You, who grew up with a stepdad! He raised you, and you think thats fine. Why cant Simon follow that example, be a man like him?

Sarah stopped dead. There was a spark in her eyes.

Our stepdad came into our lives knowing the whole truth. Mum never lied to himshe told him, these are my children, their father left. He made a considered adult choice. You stole that from Simon. Thats the difference, Madeleine. My stepdads a hero because he took that responsibility, knowing what he was doing. You tried to trap Simon by lying.

She walked away, leaving Madeleine standing, lost in the middle of the pavement.

The divorce proceedings dragged on painfully. Simon insisted the court record state he was not Christophers biological father. Madeleine contested, demanded retests, tried to complicate matters, but the judge, seeing through such cases before, wouldnt budge. No support was awarded from Simon, though she didnt object to his voluntary help. Simon set up a savings account in Christophers name, enough for university, and bought shares to mature for him at eighteen.

Its not for her sake, he explained to Sarah in a cafe after one of the hearings. Its for him. Christopher isnt to blame for his mothers lies. And if I cant be his dad, I want him to know I didnt leave for money or lack of care. I just couldnt live a lie.

What if she spends it? Sarah asked. Shes still his legal guardian.

The accounts locked until hes eighteen, only for him. Everyday expensesclothes, nurseryI order or transfer directly, with oversight. If she misuses it, Ill freeze the card. At first she was furious, called it demeaning, but she soon yielded. She needs the money, Sarah. Shes afraid without it.

Sarah saw her brother changed now. The gentleness hed shown coaxing porridge into Christopher, or doing silly voices for bedtime stories, was burned away. Fear of even a little warmth replaced itbut she understood.

Youll cope, she said quietly, placing a hand over his. The pain will ease.

You know, Simon looked out at the grey London sky, if shed just told me, back when I first suspected, or even before the test, maybe Id have forgiven her. But she pressed my guilt, my love for the boy, my trust.

Sarah squeezed his hand.

Another month passed. The divorce came through; Simon returned to his home once Madeleine had moved out. He met Christopher twice in public placesa childrens cafe, where they built towers and shared ice cream. The boy grew accustomed to the new arrangement: no more crying when he saw Simon, just glad to see him, though always the same question: Daddy, when are you coming home? And always Simon replied, I wont be living with you, Christopher, but Ill always be here for you. You can always call me.

A third meeting never happened. Madeleine messagedHes unwell, we cant come. A week later, again: Hes exhausted by these meetings. The psychologist says we should take a break. Simon saw through ither new ploy was to distance Christopher from him. He submitted a formal request, via his solicitor, to stick to agreed visitation. No reply.

He could have gone to court, but after talking to Sarah, decided against it. She advised he give Madeleine timesooner or later, lacking a mans steady support, shed seek him out.

Shes using Christopher as a pawn, Sarah said. She thinks if she withholds access, youll plead, offer more, come back. Show her you can wait. Patience is your best weapon.

Simon took the advice. He kept paying into Christophers card, covered the nursery fees, bought clothes online for delivery, but didnt call or request visits. Silence stretched for nearly two months.

One evening, Sarah phoned, her voice measured but uneasy.

Simondont panic. Madeleine rang Mum. She’s asked for a talk, not via lawyers, just you and her. Says Christophers started wetting the bed, crying out for you in his sleep. The doctor says its psychological. Shes ready to resume visits.

Long pause.

She wants to talk? Simon finally said. Fine. Tell hertomorrow, three oclock, the park by the fountain. With Christopher. If she comes alone, Im leaving.

Youre sure? asked Sarah.

Yes. The boy doesnt deserve this. But Im not dancing to her tune anymore. If she wants me in his life, therell be rulesno blackmail, no drama, no trying to get me back. Im just someone who helps her son. End of.

Next afternoon, sun setting gold in the park, Simon waited on the bench by the fountain. He watched them approachthe boy breaking free to run, tripping over his laces, throwing himself into Simons arms with a choked Daddy! Simon hugged him tight, feeling the skinny frame tremble with sobs.

There, there, he murmured, stroking his hair. Im here.

Madeleine, wan and tired, her eyes ringed, stood a little off. The gleam that once enraptured Simon was gone, replaced by remorse.

Simon, she said quietly. I I dont know how to apologise. I shouldnt have used him. I got scared. I thought if you saw him less, youd want to come back. She paused, sniffling. I made another mistake.

Yes, Simon said, never taking his eyes off Christopher. The boy, now calmed, began excitedly describing a new toy Granny had bought. You did. But were not here to talk about that.

I know, Madeleine nodded, dabbing tears. Im not asking you to come back. Just please dont disappear. He needs you. He doesnt understand. He thinks you dont love him anymore.

The three of them sat on that bench, wordless at times. Christopher, cheered up, played by the fountain, comparing sticks and stones, Madeleine handing Simon wipes without a word, Simon accepting them. It wasnt a family, not in the usual sense. But it was something elseperhaps more honest, more complex, a fragile arrangement, born of truth at last rather than illusion.

Sarah, watching from a distance, felt tears well upnot from sadness, but a toughened admiration. You cant undo betrayal, she realised, but you can choose not to answer hurt with hurt. You can build something decent on the wreckage, accepting that sometimes the most honest life you can live is one that faces the truth, however hard.

And in that, perhaps, lies the truest kind of strength.