**Diary Entry**
I never imagined the man I lovedthe father of my childwould ever stare me in the face and question whether our son was truly his. Yet there I sat, on our cream-coloured sofa, cradling our little boy while my husband and his parents hurled accusations like arrows.
It started with a glance. When my mother-in-law, Margaret, first laid eyes on Oliver in the hospital, her face twisted. Whispering to my husband, James, while she thought I slept, she muttered, He doesnt look like a Whitmore. I feigned ignorance, but her words stung worse than the C-section scars.
At first, James brushed it off. We joked about how newborns change, how Oliver had my cheekbones and Jamess brow. But that sliver of suspicion had been planted, and Margaret nurtured it with every visit.
Funny, James had green eyes as a baby, shed remark, holding Oliver up to the window. Strange that Olivers are so brown.
One evening, when Oliver was three months old, James arrived home late from work. I was slumped on the sofa nursing the baby, my hair greasy, exhaustion pressing down like a lead weight. He didnt even greet me with a kiss. Just stood there, arms folded.
We need to talk, he said.
I already knew.
Mum and Dad think we should do a DNA test. Just to settle things.
To settle things? I echoed, my voice cracking. You honestly believe Ive been unfaithful?
James shifted awkwardly. No, Charlotte. Not at all. But theyre concerned. I just want to put their minds at ease.
My stomach knotted. *Put their minds at ease*not mine, not Olivers. *Theirs.*
Fine, I said after a long silence, swallowing the lump in my throat. You want a test? Youll get one. But I want something in return.
James frowned. What do you mean?
If I endure this insult, you agreeright now, in front of your parentsthat if the results confirm what I already know, anyone who still doubts me will be cut off. No exceptions.
James hesitated. Behind him, Margaret stiffened, lips pursed, arms crossed.
And if I refuse?
I met his gaze, feeling Olivers steady breaths against my chest. Then you can all walk out that door. Dont bother coming back.
The air turned thick. Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but James shot her a warning look. He knew I wasnt bluffing. He knew Id never betrayed him. Oliver was his sonhis spitting image, if only hed look past his mothers poison.
Fine, James sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. Well do the test. And if it proves what you say, thats it. No more nonsense.
Margaret looked as if shed bitten into a sour apple. This is absurd, she hissed. If youve nothing to hide
Oh, Ive nothing to hide, I cut in. But you doyour spite, your constant interference. It stops the moment those results come back. Or youll never see your son or grandson again.
James winced but stayed silent.
Two days later, the test was done. A nurse swabbed Olivers tiny mouth while he fussed in my arms. James did his swab, jaw tight. That night, I rocked Oliver to sleep, whispering apologies he couldnt comprehend.
I barely slept. James dozed on the sofa. I couldnt stand having him beside me while he questioned our sons very existence.
When the results arrived, James read them first. His knees buckled, the paper trembling in his grip. Charlotte Im so sorry. I should never have
Dont apologise to me, I said coolly, lifting Oliver from his cot and settling him on my lap. Apologise to your son. And to yourself. Because youve lost something youll never get back.
But the fight wasnt over. The test was just the start.
James knelt there, clutching the proof of what he shouldve known all along. His eyes were bloodshot, but I felt nothingno warmth, no sympathy. Just hollow where trust used to live.
Behind him, Margaret and my father-in-law, Alfred, stood rigid. Margarets lips were pressed so tightly theyd gone pale. She couldnt even look at me. *Good.*
You promised, I said softly, rocking Oliver, who cooed obliviously. You said if the test cleared the air, youd cut out anyone who still doubted me.
James swallowed hard. Charlotte, please. Shes my mother. She was only worried
Worried? I laughed bitterly, making Oliver startle. I kissed his downy head. She poisoned you against your own wife and child. Called me a liar, a cheatall because she cant bear not controlling your life.
Margaret stepped forward, voice quivering with indignation. Charlotte, dont be melodramatic. We did what any family would. We had to be certain
No, I interrupted. Decent families trust each other. Decent husbands dont make their wives prove their childrens paternity. You wanted proof? Youve got it. Now youll get something else.
James stared at me, bewildered. Charlotte, what do you mean?
I took a steadying breath, feeling Olivers heartbeat against mine. I want all of you out. Now.
Margaret gasped. Alfred spluttered. Jamess face drained. What? Charlotte, you cantthis is our home
No, I said firmly. This is Olivers home. Mine and his. And you three shattered it. You humiliated me, doubted us. I wont raise my son where his mothers word means nothing.
James stood, guilt morphing into anger. Charlotte, be reasonable
I *was* reasonable, I snapped. When I agreed to that vile test. When I bit my tongue as your mother nitpicked my cooking, my clothes, my family. I was reasonable letting her into our lives at all.
I rose, holding Oliver tighter. But Im done. Stay if you want. But your parents leave. Today. Or you all go.
Margarets voice turned shrill. James! Youre truly allowing this? Your own mother
James looked at me, then at Oliver, then at the floor. For the first time in years, he seemed like a lost boy in his own house. He turned to Margaret and Alfred. Mum. Dad. Maybe its best if you go.
The silence shattered Margarets composure. Her face twisted with fury. Alfred placed a hand on her shoulder, but she shook him off.
This is your wifes doing, she spat at James. Dont expect us to forgive you.
She turned to me, eyes like daggers. Youll regret this. You think youve won, but youll see.
I smiled. Goodbye, Margaret.
Minutes later, Alfred gathered their coats, muttering apologies James couldnt acknowledge. Margaret stormed out without a backward glance. When the door clicked shut, the house felt larger, quieterlighter.
James sank onto the sofa, staring at his hands. He looked up at me, voice barely audible. Charlotte Im sorry. I shouldve defended youdefended *us*.
I nodded. Yes. You should have.
He reached for my hand. I let him hold it for a secondjust a secondthen pulled away. James, I dont know if I can forgive this. You broke my trust in them *and* in you.
Tears welled in his eyes. Tell me what to do. Ill do anything.
I glanced down at Oliver, who blinked sleepily, fingers clutching my jumper. Start by proving you mean it. Be the father he deserves. Be the husband I deserveif you want that chance. And if you ever let them near us again without my say-so, youll lose us for good. Understood?
James nodded, shoulders sagging. Understood.
In the weeks that followed, things shifted. Margaret called, pleaded, ragedI ignored her. James did too. He came home early, took Oliver for walks so I could nap, even attempted cooking. He looked at our son like he was seeing him anewbecause, in a way, he was.
Trust isnt rebuilt overnight. Some evenings, I lie awake wondering if Ill ever see James the same way again. But every morning, when I watch him feeding Oliver toast soldiers or making him giggle, I thinkmaybe, just maybewell be alright.
Were not perfect. But were ours. And for now, thats enough.
