24October2025 My diary
I never imagined the man I love, the father of my child, would stare straight at me and question whether our little boy truly belongs to him. Yet there I was, perched on the beige settee in our flat in Barkingside, cradling our newborn while Mark and his parents hurled accusations like sharpened sticks.
It all started with a glance. When my motherinlaw, Patricia, first laid eyes on baby Ethan in the maternity ward, she frowned. While I pretended to be asleep, she whispered to Mark, He doesnt look like a Collins. Her words cut deeper than the stitches from my caesarean.
Mark brushed it off at first. We laughed about how babies change so muchhow Ethan had my nose and Marks chin. But the seed of doubt had been planted, and Patricia kept watering it with every comment she could muster.
You know, Mark had blue eyes as a baby, shed say, holding Ethan up to the light. Isnt it odd that Ethans eyes are so dark?
One evening, when Ethan was three months old, Mark trudged home late from the office. I was feeding him on the couch, hair unwashed, fatigue hanging over me like a damp coat. He didnt even give me a kiss. He just stood there, arms crossed.
We need to talk, he said.
I already knew what was coming.
Mom and Dad think it would be best to do a DNA test. To clear the air.
To clear the air? I echoed, my voice hoarse with disbelief. You think Ive been unfaithful?
Mark shifted uneasily. No, Poppy. Not at all. But theyre worried. I just want to settle thisfor everyone.
My heart sank. For everyone. Not for me, not for Ethan, for them.
Fine, I said after a long pause, holding back tears. If you want a test, youll have one. But Ill have a condition.
Mark frowned. What condition?
If I agree to this insult, you agree that, should the results come back the way I know they will, youll let me handle things my way. And youll promise, right now, in front of your parents, that anyone who still doubts me after this will be cut off.
Mark hesitated. Patricia stiffened behind him, arms crossed, eyes icy.
And if I refuse?
I met his gaze, feeling Ethans gentle breaths against my chest. Then you can all leave. Dont come back.
The room grew heavy. Patricia opened her mouth to argue, but Mark silenced her with a glance. He knew I wasnt bluffing. He knew I hadnt cheated. Ethan was his sonhis mirror image if only he could see past his mothers poison.
Fine, Mark finally said, running a hand through his hair. Well do the test. And if it proves what you say, thats it. No more accusations.
Patricias face twisted like shed swallowed a lemon. This is absurd, she hissed. If you have nothing to hide
Oh, I have nothing to hide, I snapped. But you doyour hatred, your constant meddling. It ends once the test is done, or youll never see your son or grandson again.
Mark winced but said nothing.
Two days later the nurse swabbed Ethans tiny mouth while he whined in my arms. Mark gave his own sample, his face grim. That night I rocked Ethan, whispering apologies he could not understand.
I barely slept. Mark dozed on the settee. I could not bear sharing our bed with a man who still doubted meand our baby.
When the results arrived, Mark read them first. He fell to his knees before me, the paper trembling in his hand. Poppy Im so sorry. I never should have
Dont apologise to me, I said coldly, lifting Ethan from his cot onto my lap. Apologise to your son. And to yourself. Because youve lost something you can never get back.
My battle was not over. The test was merely the beginning.
Mark knelt there, clutching the proof of what he should have always known. His eyes were red, but I felt nothingno warmth, no pity. Just a cold emptiness where trust once lived.
Behind him, Patricia and my fatherinlaw, Gerald, stood frozen. Patricias lips were so tight they turned white. She dared not meet my gaze. Good.
You promised, I said calmly, rocking Ethan, who gurgled happily, unaware of the family storm. You said that if the test cleared the air, youd cut out anyone still doubting me.
Mark swallowed hard. Poppy, please. Shes my mother. She was just worried
Worried? I laughed sharply, making Ethan flinch. I kissed his soft hair. She poisoned you against your own wife and son. Called me a liar and a cheatall because she cant stand not controlling your life.
Patricia stepped forward, voice trembling with righteous venom. Poppy, dont be dramatic. We did what any family would. We had to be sure
No, I interrupted. Normal families trust each other. Normal husbands dont make their wives prove their children are theirs. You wanted proof? You got it. Now youll get something else.
Mark looked confused. Poppy, what do you mean?
I took a deep breath, feeling Ethans heartbeat against my chest. I want all of you gone. Now.
Patricia gasped. Gerald sputtered. Marks eyes widened. What? Poppy, you cantthis is our house
No, I said firmly. This is Ethans house. Mine and his. And you three broke it. You doubted us, humiliated me. You will not raise my son in a home where his mother is called a liar.
Mark rose, anger rising as guilt vanished. Poppy, be reasonable
I was reasonable, I snapped. When I agreed to that disgusting test. When I bit my tongue as your mother made digs about my hair, my cooking, my family. I was reasonable letting her into our lives at all.
I held Ethan tighter. But Im done being reasonable. You want to stay here? Fine. But your parents leave. Today. Or you all leave.
Patricias voice shrilled. Mark! Are you really letting her do this? Your own mother
Mark looked at me, then at Ethan, then at the floor. For the first time in years he looked like a lost boy in his own home. He turned to Patricia and Gerald. Mum. Dad. Maybe you should go.
Patricias mask cracked, fury and disbelief flashing across her face. Gerald placed a hand on her shoulder, but she brushed it away.
This is your wifes doing, she hissed at Mark. Dont expect forgiveness.
She turned to me, eyes sharp as knives. Youll regret this. You think youve won, but youll regret it when he comes crawling back.
I smiled. Goodbye, Patricia.
Within minutes Gerald grabbed their coats, mumbling apologies Mark could not answer. Patricia left without looking back. When the door shut, the flat felt larger, emptierbut lighter.
Mark sat on the edge of the settee, staring at his hands. He looked up at me, voice barely a whisper. Poppy Im sorry. I should have stood up for youfor us.
I nodded. Yes. You should have.
He reached for my hand. I let him take it for a momentjust a momentthen pulled away. Mark, I dont know if I can forgive you. This has broken my trust in them and in you.
Tears filled his eyes. Tell me what to do. Ill do anything.
I looked down at Ethan, who yawned and curled his tiny fingers around my sweater. Start by earning it back. Be the father he deserves. Be the husband I deserveif you want that chance. And if you ever let them near me or Ethan again without my permission, you wont see us again. Understand?
Mark nodded, shoulders slumping. I understand.
In the weeks that followed, things changed. Patricia called, begged, threatenedI didnt answer. Mark didnt either. He came home early every night, took Ethan for walks so I could rest, cooked dinner. He looked at our son as if seeing him for the first timebecause, in a way, he was.
Rebuilding trust isnt easy. Some nights I lie awake wondering if Ill ever see Mark the same way. But every morning, when I watch him feeding Ethan breakfast, making him laugh, I think maybejust maybewell be okay.
Were not perfect. But were ours. And thats enough.
