Simon had finally had enough. He stared at Evelyn, his voice low but fierce.
Listen, Im not going to raise a child that isnt mine. Tomorrow Ill find a clinic and well do a DNA test.
Evelyns legs gave way. What? Youre serious? Weve been together for three years, Simon. I never gave you any reason to doubt me.
Then well see, he said, a crooked grin on his face. If its my son, Ill accept the responsibility, apologise and be a dad. If it isnt
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was another message from Simon, his latenight desperation spilling onto the screen.
Why so long?
Your mother called, asking when youll be back.
Youve been in labour for sixteen hours and still havent given birth! What are the doctors saying? Why are you silent?
Im downstairs. Come to the window.
A wave of tears rose in Evelyns throat. She tried to push herself up on her elbows but the pain was crushing. The epidural had long stopped working; even moving felt like a battle.
Lord she whispered, letting her head fall back onto the pillow.
The phone rang again. She answered, knowing Simon would not let her rest.
Yes? she croaked. Simon, hello.
Why arent you getting up? he snapped, not even greeting her. How many times do I have to ask? You read my messages and never answer! Im standing by the secondfloor windows. Show me the baby.
Evelyn shut her eyes. Simon, I cant.
What do you mean you cant?
I cant stand. I gave birth five hours ago. They stitched me up. I cant sit, I cant walk. I wont even reach the sill.
A long silence hung in the air before Simon growled, offended.
Other mums are out there, waving, he muttered. Theres a girl next door with a baby in a pram. And you? Special?
Simon, Im in pain. Please, stop, she pleaded.
What do you mean stop? Im the father, I want to see my son!
You think Im just standing here with flowers like a fool, shivering? Get over here and look through the window!
Evelyn could hold back no longer. She sobbed quietly, wishing he would say, Darling, how are you? Rest, I love you. Instead
I cant lift the child, she whispered. Theyve told me not to get up until at least evening. Go home, Simon
She hung up, but the phone rang three seconds later. She flipped it face down. Tears streamed down her cheeks, hurt and bewildered. Why was he treating her like this?
A nurse entered the ward, her expression immediately concerned.
Mrs why are you crying? Stop it at once, youll frighten the baby. Hell go hungry if your milk burns out. Let me help you sit up, its time to feed. Whats wrong?
My husband wants to see the baby through the window. I cant, Evelyn hiccupped.
The nurse clicked her tongue, smoothed the blanket and, dropping the formalities, said, Those mums can be a right lot, cant they? Tell him to calm down this is a hospital, not a circus.
Dont you worry, love, hes not worth the tears. She adjusted the sheet. You need to rest and think of the baby first.
Simons messages kept coming, one after another, each colder than the last. Evelyn read them and felt a chill settle deeper.
Lying, arent you?
Show me the child, I said! Is he even healthy?
Maybe hes not mine if youre hiding him?
Only a proper mum shows her first child to her husband. Why are you hiding?
Evelyns heart pounded. After three years together, she had thought shed married a reliable man, a protector for life. She realized shed been wrong.
Summoning her remaining strength, she reached for the incubator. The newborn lay there, cheeks puffed, skin reddish as any newborns, a tuft of dark hair on his head.
She snapped a photo. Her hands shook, the picture came out a little blurry, but his little face was clear. She hit send.
A reply arrived instantly.
What is this?
Evelyn typed, Our son, Charlie.
Simon called back immediately.
Evelyn, are you an idiot? he shouted.
What are you on about? she asked, confused.
Look at him! Hes black!
Hes redcheeked, just born! What black?
Its his hair! My hairs brown, yours is dyed blonde, but his is like a coal lump! Whose child is he? The neighbours? The taxi drivers?
Evelyns blood boiled. Are you mad? Almost every newborn has dark hair that lightens later! The redness is from the blood vessels, ask any doctor!
Dont try to doctor me! Simon barked. Im not blind. White parents have white babies. He looks like a charcoal lump. No wonder you didnt bring him to the window.
Shes right, Simon, Evelyn whispered, ending the call.
She blocked his number. The baby let out a tiny whimper, demanding attention. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing at the stitches, and cradled Charlie in her arms.
Its alright, love, she murmured, rocking him, swallowing salty tears. Well be fine. We have each other, and thats enough. My little gold.
The next three days in the maternity ward blurred into a haze. Evelyn fed, changed diapers, heeded the nurses advice, and kept wondering how she would ever get home.
Simon stopped calling, sending only dry texts: What to buy? What time to collect? No I love you, no I miss you.
The discharge papers felt like a farce. Evelyn shuffled to the reception, pale and bruised under her eyes, makeup barely covering the darkness.
A nurse followed, solemnly handing her a envelope tied with a blue ribbon.
Simon stood by the doors, a wilted bunch of roses in his hands, his face a mask of stone.
Beside him hovered his mother, Margaret Gray, shifting from foot to foot.
Congratulations! the nurse announced loudly, handing the envelope to Simon.
Simon took the infant, grimacing. He held the envelope out, eyes never meeting his sons face.
Thanks, he muttered.
Margaret pried open the envelope.
Oh, how tiny! Sleeping? Thank goodness we got through that. Lets go home.
The car ride home was silent. Simon drove aggressively, jerking the steering wheel, braking sharply at every light. Evelyn hugged Charlie tightly in the back seat.
Please drive carefully, she said as the car bounced over a pothole. Theres a baby in the car.
Fine, Im driving, Simon snapped, glancing at the rearview mirror. If you dont like it, walk.
At home, the kitchen lights flickered on. Simon tossed his keys on the hall table, not even taking off his shoes, and shouted, Anything to eat?
Evelyn stared, stunned.
Simon, Ive just been in the hospital for three days. I barely set foot in the house. Wheres the food?
Order something. Or should I stand at the stove? I was working while you were resting, he said, the word resting dripping with sarcasm.
She placed Charlie in the crib they had chosen together a month earlier, then moved to the kitchen.
Can we talk? she asked quietly, leaning against the doorway. The pain in her body still throbbing.
Simon set his phone down. Sure, I was just discussing this with the lads and my mother.
The lads? she repeated. Youre discussing our baby with friends?
Im discussing the situation! he yelled, slamming his palm on the table. Evelyn, cut the drama. The child doesnt look like me at all. Not even a bit! Hes darkhaired, almost blackeyed. We have no such genes.
He stepped close, his breath hot on her face.
Fine. Im not raising another mans child. Tomorrow Ill find a clinic, well do a DNA test.
Evelyn felt the room tilt. Im not raising a strangers baby either, she said. Youve been three years in my life, but youve turned into a stranger now.
Charlie began to whimper in the nursery. Simon tossed a glance at the window.
Go calm him down, he said, turning away. Hes just a little troublemaker, not my kind of kid. Im a calm man.
Evelyn stared at his broad shoulders, at the familiar Tshirt shed ironed before his delivery, and realised the man shed known was gone. She no longer had a family.
She turned, lifted Charlie to her chest; he instantly settled, soothed by her warmth.
Shh, little one Mums here, she whispered. We have each other, and thats enough.
Simon reentered five minutes later.
So? Ready for the test? Or are you scared? he asked.
Evelyn met his gaze.
Do it, she said evenly. Find a clinic, pay for it. Take your test.
Finally, he grunted, a small smirk appearing. Now we can stop the drama.
She interrupted, voice steady, When the results come back and they say youre the father remember, youll have lost not just me but also a son. Ill never forgive you for abandoning us when I needed you most.
Simon sneered, waving a hand dismissively. Oh, stop the theatrics. Manipulative nonsense. Youll thank me later when the paperwork is done.
He trudged to the living room, turned on the television, and lost himself in a sitcom.
Evelyn watched Charlie sleep, his tiny dark curls brushing her cheek. Its alright, she whispered, planting a kiss on his forehead. Let them do what they must. It wont change how much I love you.
Two months later, a call rang early in the morning. Simons voice trembled.
Evelyn, please, come back. Ive realized everything. The girls my mother Im sorry for the test. Im ready to pay full child support, every penny, no deductions. Please give me another chance.
Evelyn hung up without a word.
Simons DNA test had returned positive. She filed for divorce, for child support, and for a fair split of their joint assets. She moved into a modest flat her parents helped her rent.
She built a new life, surrounded by friends who valued her, and by a son who grew strong and happy under her care.
She learned that love is not a contract, and loyalty is earned, not demanded. In the end, the truth set her free, and she discovered that the greatest strength lies in trusting oneself, even when the world turns its back.
