You Must Hand Over the Child—We Are Their True Parents,” Demanded the Strangers at Our Doorstep

You must give us the child. Were his real parents, the strangers said on the doorstep.

Mum, can I stay home from school tomorrow? My head hurts again, Alfie said, standing in the kitchen doorway, gripping the frame.

Emma turned from the stove, where she was stirring soup. Her son did look pale, dark circles under his eyes.

Again? Alfie, this is the third time this week. Maybe we should see the doctor?

Dont need a doctor. Just tired. Can I stay home?

Well see in the morning. Go do your homework for now.

Ive done it already.

All of it? Even maths?

Even maths.

Emma walked over, pressing her hand to his forehead. No fever. But lately, hed been quiet, distant. Usually bouncing off the walls, now he just sat in his room for hours, staring out the window.

Alfie, is everything okay at school? No ones bothering you?

Everythings fine, Mum. Just my head.

He disappeared into his room. Emma returned to the stove, but unease gnawed at her. Eight years raising a child, thinking you know them inside outthen suddenly realising somethings wrong, but you dont know what.

That evening, her husband Mark came home, exhausted after his shift. But seeing Emmas worried face, he tensed.

Whats wrong?

Alfies complaining about headaches again. Third time this week.

So take him to the doctor.

Ive told him, but he wont go. Maybe hes just worn out? End of term, tests and all.

Mark went to talk to Alfie. Emma heard their low voices. He came back, sitting at the table.

Says hes fine. But agreed to see the doctor tomorrow.

Good. Ill book it first thing.

At dinner, Alfie barely touched his food. Pushed peas around, drank some tea, then asked to go to bed. Emma and Mark exchanged glances.

Dyou think hes got a crush? Mark suggested. Happens at that age.

Hes only eight.

Kids grow up fast these days.

Emma cleared the table, washed up, her mind racing. Had something happened at school? Was he seriously ill?

That night, she checked on Alfie multiple times. He tossed and turned, muttering in his sleep. She tucked him in, stroked his hair. He opened his eyes.

Mum?

Go back to sleep, love. Its okay.

Mum do you love me?

Of course I do. More than anything.

Even if if Im not yours?

Emma froze.

What nonsense, Alfie? Of course youre mine. Now sleep.

He closed his eyes, turning away. She left, but sleep wouldnt come. Where had he gotten such thoughts?

In the morning, Alfie got up without being asked. Ate breakfast, packed his bag.

Mum, Im going to school. Head doesnt hurt anymore.

Sure? We could still see the doctor

Im fine.

And he was gone before she could argue. She watched him stride across the yard, fastlike he was running toward something.

The day passed normallywork, shopping, cooking. But the worry wouldnt leave. She nearly called his teacher but stopped herself. Didnt want to seem paranoid.

At three, the doorbell rang. A man and woman stood therestrangers. The man was tall, dark-haired, mid-forties. The woman younger, pretty but tense.

Hello, the man said. Are you Emma Thompson?

Yes. Who are you?

Im David Carter. This is my wife, Sarah. We need to speak with you.

About what?

David glanced at Sarah. She nodded slightly, as if urging him on.

About your son. Alfie.

Emma stiffened.

What about Alfie? Did something happen at school?

No, schools fine. May we come in? Its a long conversation.

I dont know you. What could we possibly have to talk about?

Sarah stepped forward, tears in her eyes.

Please. Its important. We we need you to give our child back. Were his real parents.

Emma stumbled back. Her ears rang.

What? Thats ridiculous! Alfies my son!

Listen, David pulled papers from a folder. We have proof. Eight years ago, there was a mix-up at the hospital. Our babies were switched.

Get out! Now! Or Ill call the police!

Emma, please, Sarah choked. We raised a child for eight years too. Loved him. Then we found out

Found out what?

Our sonthe boy we raisedhe got sick. Needed a blood transfusion. The blood types didnt match. Not mine, not Davids. We did a DNA test.

Emma gripped the doorframe. Her legs shook.

And?

Hes not biologically ours. We investigated, went to the hospital. They checked records. Only two boys were born that night. Ours and yours.

This is some mistake.

We tested the boy we raised. Then we got a sample of Alfies DNA.

How? When?

David looked away.

Im sorry. We followed him. Took a juice carton he threw out. It was enough.

You stalked my child? Thats illegal!

We had to know. The test matched. Alfie is our biological son.

Emmas vision blurred. She staggered to a chair in the hall. The strangers stayed in the doorway.

Show me the documents.

David handed over the folder. DNA results, hospital records, certificates. Emma stared at the papers, but the words swam.

This cant be true.

We didnt want to believe it either, Sarah whispered. Eight years. Eight years I raised someone elses child.

Hes not someone elses, David snapped. James is our son. Not by blood, but ours. We love him.

And we love Alfie, Emma looked up. And were not giving him to anyone.

But hes ours by blood

Blood! Who raised him? Who stayed up when he teethed? Who sat in hospital when he had chickenpox? Who walked him to school, helped with homework, read him stories?

We understand, David knelt beside her. Believe me, we do. Were in the same situation. Jameshes our family. But

But what?

Wed like to see Alfie. And you if you wanted could see James.

I dont want to see your James! I have a sonAlfie!

The front door slammed. Everyone turned. Mark stood in the hall, taking in the strangers, his wife in tears.

Whats going on? Emma, are you all right?

Mark theyre saying Alfie isnt ours.

What rubbish?

David stood, offering a hand.

David Carter. This is my wife, Sarah. Eight years ago, our babies were switched at the hospital. Your son is biologically ours. Ours is yours.

Mark ignored the hand. Took the folder, scanning the documents.

What do you want?

We dont know. Just to meet him. See the boy.

See him and what? Take him?

No! Sarah waved her hands. Were not monsters. The boys grew up with you. But wed like to see him sometimes.

Do they know?

Jamesyour biological sonwe havent told him yet. Dont know how.

Good. And we wont tell Alfie.

He already knows, Sarah said softly.

What? How?

We dont know. Yesterday, he approached us on the street. Said, Youre my real parents, right? We were stunned. He said he always felt it. Knew he didnt look like you.

Emma remembered last night. *If Im not yours?* Thats where it came from.

Where did he see you?

Weve been near his school. Watching from a distance. He mustve noticed and felt something.

God, Emma covered her face. What do we do now?

Lets discuss this calmly, David said. The fact isthe boys were switched. Two families love their children. We need a solution that works for everyone.

What solution? Mark clenched his fists. Swap them?

No. Thats impossible. They grew up with you. But we have rights

You have no rights!

Legally, we do. As biological parents

Sod the law! Alfies our son!

The