Husband Insists on DNA Test – Mother Goes into Overdrive

He was deadset on a DNA test Mum was already whipping things up.

Listen, Im not going to raise a kid that isnt mine Tomorrow Ill find a clinic and well do the test, James said, his tone flat.

What? You cant be serious, Emilys legs gave way, and she clutched the edge of the bed. James, weve been together three years. Ive never given you any reason to doubt me.

He smirked crookedly. Well see. If hes mine, Ill step up, no questions, Ill apologise if I need to. If not

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand, and Emily squinted at the glow another message from James.

She swiped open the lock and a flood of texts from the night before, when shed been sobbing into her pillow, tumbled out.

Why are you taking so long?

Your mum called, asks when youll be back.

Emily, I cant believe you havent given birth in sixteen hours! What are the doctors saying? Why are you silent?

The latest one, sent just seven minutes ago, read: Im downstairs. Come to the window.

Emily let out a breath, the urge to cry hitting her hard. She tried to prop herself up on her elbows but the pain was brutal; the epidural had long quit working and even moving felt like a chore.

Lord she whispered, letting her head slump back onto the pillow.

The phone rang again and she had to answer James wasnt about to leave her alone.

Hello? she croaked. James, hi.

Why arent you getting up? he snapped, not even saying hello. How many times do I have to ask? You read my messages and ignore them!

Im standing by the secondfloor windows. Look, show me the baby.

Emily closed her eyes.

I cant, James.

What do you mean you cant?

I cant get up. I delivered five hours ago, theyve stitched me up. I cant sit, walking hurts. I wont make it to the sill.

There was a beat of silence before James growled, offended: Everyone else is waving out there. Over there, the neighbours girl with her doll is and you? Acting special?

Im in pain, James. Please, dont start this.

What do you mean dont start? Am I not the father? I just want to see my son!

You think Im standing here with flowers like some idiot, freezing? Get your head out of the clouds and come to the window!

Emily could hold back no longer; she sobbed softly, wishing hed just say, Love, how are you? Rest up, I love you, and feel a shred of pity. Instead

I cant lift the baby, she whispered. Theyve told me not to get up until at least this evening. Go home, James

She hung up, but three seconds later the line rang again. Emily flipped the phone facedown. Tears streamed like rain; it was maddening. Why was he treating her like this?

A nurse popped into the ward and immediately looked concerned.

Mrs why are you crying? Stop it, please. Lets calm down She tried to soothe, but the baby would be hungry if the milk went cold. Give me a hand getting him up, we need to feed him. Whats wrong?

My husband wants to see the baby at the window, but I cant Emily sniffed.

The nurse clicked her tongue, smoothed the blanket, and switched to a friendly you.

Those little ones are restless, arent they? Tell him to give his eyes a rest this is a delivery ward, not a circus!

See? Hes asking for it.

Dont worry, its not worth crying over.

Lie still, you need to gather strength. First thing is the baby.

James kept texting, one after another, and each one chilled Emilys gut.

Are you hiding something?

Show me the child, I said! Is he even healthy?

Maybe he isnt mine if youre keeping him hidden?

Youre the one covering up for the first kid, and now youre hiding?

Emily felt a cold dread. What had happened to the man shed been with for three years? Hed never acted like this before.

Shed thought shed married a solid bloke, someone whod always be her rock. Turns out shed misread him badly.

Summoning the last of her strength, she reached for the babys bassinet. The newborn was a tiny bundle, cheeks puckered, skin a pinkish hue like any newborn, a little tuft of dark hair on his head.

She snapped a photo. Her hands shook, the picture was a bit blurry, but his face was clear. She hit send.

His reply came instantly: Whats this?

Emily typed back: Our son. Milo.

James called right back: Emily, are you kidding me?

What? she asked, confused.

You look at him! Hes black!

What black, James? Hes redcheeked, just born!

His hair! James shouted so loudly Emily pulled the phone away. My hairs brown, yours is dyed blonde, but you both have light hair. This kids hair is like coal! Whose is it? The neighbours? A cab driver?

Emilys lungs burned from the outrage.

Youre insane! she spat. Almost all newborns have dark hair at first, it lightens later!

Its red because the veins are close to the surface! Ask any doctor!

Dont try to treat me here! James cut in. Im not blind. White babies are born white if the parents are white.

This… youre just fine, thats why you didnt come to the window.

She felt a flush of shame.

What a, Emily whispered, ending the call.

She blocked his number, the tears choking her, making it hard to breathe. The baby let out a tiny whimper, demanding attention.

Emily managed to swing her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the stitches, and cradled Milo in her arms.

There, little one, she murmured, rocking him, swallowing salty tears. Weve got each other, thats all we need. Right, my love?

Three days in the hospital drifted like a fog. She barely slept, feeding, changing diapers, listening to the nurses instructions, while a single thought looped: how to get home?

James stopped calling. He only sent dry texts: What do we need to buy? What time should I pick you up? No I love you, no I miss you.

The discharge paperwork felt like a farce. Emily shuffled into the lobby, pale, dark circles under her eyes that no concealer could hide.

A nurse followed, holding an envelope tied with a blue ribbon.

James stood by the doors, a wilted bunch of roses in his hand, bought from some cheap stall.

His face was stone, not a hint of joy.

Beside him, his mother, Irene, shifted from foot to foot.

Congratulations! the nurse shouted, handing the envelope to the father.

James took the baby, grimacing. He held the envelope out, eyes darting above his wifes head, never meeting his sons face.

Thanks, he muttered.

Irene nudged the envelope open. Oh, how tiny! Sleeping? Thank heavens, at least thats something. Lets get home.

The car ride was silent.

James drove aggressively, jerking the wheel, slamming on brakes at lights. Emily sat in the back, clutching Milo tightly.

Could you be a bit more careful? she snapped when the car jolted over a pothole. Youre driving a baby

Im fine, James snapped back, glancing at the rearview mirror. If you dont like it, walk.

At home, a kettle whistled. James tossed his keys on the nightstand without even taking his shoes off, then shouted from the kitchen, Anything to eat?

Emily stared at him, stunned. James, Ive just been in the hospital for three days. Ive only just got in the front door! Where am I supposed to get food?

Order in. Or should I stand over the stove? I was working while you were resting. He spat the word resting like a barb.

Emily placed Milo in the crib theyd picked together a month ago and made her way to the kitchen.

Can we talk? she whispered, leaning against the doorway, still sore.

James set his phone down. Sure, whats on your mind?

He took a deep breath. I talked to the lads and Mum.

The lads? she asked, incredulous. Youre discussing our baby with the lads?

Im discussing the situation! he barked, slamming his hand on the table. Emily, cut the drama. The child doesnt look like me at all. Hes completely different.

Hes only three days old, James! He cant possibly look like anyone yet!

Dont force it on me! he snapped, standing. Im not a fool, Emily. Hes darkhaired, eyes almost black. Weve never had that in our family.

He moved close, invading her space. Listen, Im not going to raise a kid that isnt mine. Tomorrow Im finding a clinic for a DNA test.

Emilys legs gave way again. What? Youre serious? James, weve been together three years. I never gave you any reason to suspect.

He smirked. Well see. If hes mine, Ill own up, be the dad, apologise if needed. If not

Milo whined in his cot.

Go calm him down, James muttered, turning toward the window. Hes crying like a newborn. Of course hes a whimper. Hes not my temperament; Im a calm bloke.

Emily stared at his broad back, the familiar Tshirt shed ironed before his delivery, and realised the James shed known was gone.

She turned, slipped Milo into her arms, pressed him to her chest he quieted instantly, feeling his mothers warmth.

Shhh, love, shhh she whispered. Im here. Mums right here

James peeked back in after five minutes. So? Ready for the test? Or scared?

Emily met his gaze. Go ahead, she said flatly. Find a clinic, pay for it. Do your test.

Excellent, he chuckled. Shouldve done that sooner. Saves the drama.

But remember, James, Emily cut in, voice steady, when the results come back and they say youre the father

He tensed, sensing the shift.

youll realize youve lost not just me, but our son. Ill never forgive you for that.

Youre not just doubting, youre slinging mud when I need you, he scoffed, waving his hand. Fine, no need for theatrics. Youll thank me later when the questions are settled.

He stalked off to the living room, turned the TV on, muttering about some rubbish drama.

Emily looked at Milo, his tiny mouth making sleepy noises, dark wisps of hair that had driven James mad now brushing her cheek.

Nothing, love, she murmured, kissing his forehead. Let him be.

Two months later, a call woke Emily. Jamess voice trembled, Emily, please, come back. Ive realized everything, Im sorry. Ill pay child support, every penny, as ordered by the court. Ill give you whatever you need. Just give us another chance.

She hung up without a word.

James eventually got the DNA test done, the results were positive. Emily filed for divorce, for child support, and for a fair division of the assets.

She moved into a flat her parents helped her rent.

And shes doing fine now, happy, far away from that betrayer.