My son isnt mine, I announced after fifteen years of marriage, waving a DNA report like a badge of proof.
Youre defending him again! Every single time you act as if he cant be held to account! Poppy snapped, her voice hard as steel. Arthurs only fifteen, hes still a child. They were together in a group, got carried away, broke a window. Its not the end of the world.
Child? I smirked. At fifteen I was already pulling summer jobs, helping my dad. And you want me to think hes just goofing off, smashing glass? This isnt the first time hes landed in trouble.
Listen, Poppy took a deep breath, fighting irritation. Arthur does well at school, does his swimming. Yes, today they behaved foolishly, but
But again! You always have an excuse for his mischief. You know what amazes me? I stepped closer, lowering my voice. His behaviour its nothing like what we taught in my family. We respected our elders, we never acted like this.
What does your family have to do with it? Poppy shook her head. Times have changed, David.
Its not about the times, I turned toward the kitchen window. Its about the blood.
She froze, not catching what I meant. Before I could elaborate, the front door slammed and Arthur burst intall, lanky, with dishevelled chestnut hair and grey eyes that mirrored his mothers.
Hey, he grumbled, hurling his backpack onto the floor.
Dont you ever throw your things at me again, I snapped.
Arthur rolled his eyes. Come off it, Dad, its just a backpack.
Its not just a backpack, its your attitudetoward things, towards this house, toward the rules, I said, fists clenched. Marks parents called. They told us about the smashed window at school.
Arthur shot a quick glance at Poppy. We were just playing ball in the courtyard. We hit the window by accident.
Accidentally? I scoffed. And it was the headmasters office window?
How was I supposed to know that was the headmasters office?
If Id known, would I have aimed elsewhere? My voice was edged with bitterness.
David, enough, Poppy interjected. Arthur, dinners on the stove. Eat and then get on with your homework.
Arthur nodded gratefully, grabbed his backpack and headed to the kitchen. I watched him leave with a hard stare.
Dont you think youre being too harsh? Poppy asked once he was out of sight.
And dont you think youre spoiling him too much? I replied. No surprise there.
What do you mean? she pressed.
Nothing. Forget it, I waved my hand and left the room.
Poppy stood in the middle of the sitting room, feeling a cold shiver run down her spine. Lately Id become unusually irritable, picking at Arthur over the smallest things. Our marriage had never been easyshe thought I was too demanding, I thought she was too softbut in recent months a new strain had crept in, a hint of suspicion or hidden resentment.
Evening stretched on in tense silence. Arthur locked himself in his bedroom, I retreated to my study, and Poppy tried to read, her thoughts tangled. My cryptic comment about blood kept circling in her mind.
Later, lying beside me in the dark, she asked, Whats going on between you and Arthur? Why are you reacting so sharply to his mistakes?
I stayed silent long enough for her to assume Id fallen asleep. Then I turned and whispered, I just want him to grow into a proper man. Responsible. Not like
Like who? she prompted.
Never mind. Sleep, I said, turning to the wall.
The next morning the tension remained. Over breakfast we all kept quiet. Arthur ate quickly and left for school without waiting for my usual lecture. I stared at my phone, not looking up.
Ill be late today, I said, draining the last of my coffee. Meeting with clients.
Alright, Poppy replied. Ill sort something for dinner.
No need, I stood up. I dont know when Ill be back.
The day crawled on. Poppy worked from home, translating articles for a scientific journal. Usually she could lose herself in the work, but today her mind kept looping back to the blood comment, my odd behaviour, the widening gap between me and Arthur.
Arthur came home cheerful, saying hed made amends with the headmaster and apologised for the window.
Weve decided to do a bit of odd jobs this weekend to pay for the glass, he said, helping Poppy slice vegetables for a salad.
Good idea, Poppy smiled. Dad will be pleased.
Arthur grimaced. I doubt it. Hes seemed unhappy with me no matter what I do.
Dont say that, Poppy patted his back. He just worries about you, wants you to become a good person.
Good, like him? Arthurs tone held hurt. Someone who comes home and immediately starts critiquing everyone?
Arthur, Poppy said firmly. Dont speak about your father like that.
Sorry, he lowered his head. Sometimes it feels like he never loved me. Never did.
My heart tightened. I pulled him into a hug. Thats not true. He loves you. He just isnt always good at showing it.
Arthur shrugged. If you say so
I didnt show up for dinner. By ten at night his phone rang unanswered. Id usually call if I was running late, so Poppys worry grew.
She sat with a cooling mug when my key finally turned in the lock. I shuffled in, the wobble in my step giving away the drink I’d had.
Where have you been? I was worried, she said, moving toward me.
I looked at her with a strange, evaluating stare. Worried? Really?
Yes, you didnt answer, you didnt tell me
Fifteen years, I interrupted, swaying slightly. Fifteen years Ive been a decent family man. Worked, provided, never asked questions. And you
What? Poppy felt a chill settle in her bones.
You know, I walked to the kitchen, sank into a chair heavily. I always thought we had a good family. Not perfect, but real. I believed in you.
You can still believe me, she whispered. Ive never lied to you.
A bitter smile curled my lips as I pulled a folded sheet of paper from my pocket. Truth? Whats this?
What?
DNA test results, I spread the paper on the table. Your son isnt mine, Poppy. Fifteen years youve been leading me on.
The world seemed to tilt. I grabbed the tables edge to keep from falling.
What? Which test? When did you
A week ago, I said, smirking. I told Arthur we needed a health check. He agreed. Today the results came back.
Poppys hands shook as she lifted the sheet. The medical jargon blurred, but the headline was clear: Paternity excluded.
This cant be right, she whispered. There must be a mistake.
A mistake? I laughed, though there was no humor. Whos the father then, Poppy? Who is Arthurs real dad?
Youre the father, she said firmly. Youre his dad, David. Ive never
I thought I knew, I shook my head. Fifteen years. A lifetime. And now I discover Ive been raising someone elses child.
She stared at me, horror and confusion warring in her eyes. David, this has to be an error. Maybe the lab mixed up samples, or
Or what? I pressed forward. Did you forget about a fling before we married? Or during? When you cheated on me, Poppy?
Never! she shouted, tears welling. Ive only ever loved you, from the start.
Then explain this result! I slammed my palm onto the paper. Explain why the DNA says Im not Arthurs father!
What happened? Mum? Dad? Whats going on? we both asked, looking toward the kitchen doorway.
Arthur stood there, hair tousled from sleep, in a tshirt and shorts, his face a mix of confusion and anxiety.
Nothing, love, Poppy quickly said, smoothing his hair. Just a grownup conversation. Go back to bed.
Love, I echoed, but whose?
What? Arthur asked, eyes darting between his parents.
David, please, not now, Poppy pleaded. Not with him here.
Why not? I rose, swaying. He deserves to know. You both deserve to know. Ive always been strict because, deep down, I sensed you werent my blood.
Dad, youre drunk, Arthur whispered, stepping back toward the door.
Im not your dad! I shouted, knocking a cup off the table. Look! I thrust the DNA sheet at him. Proof that fifteen years Ive been living a lie.
Arthur skimmed the lines, his face paling. Is it true? he asked his mother.
No! Poppy rushed to him, hugging him tightly. Its a mistake, Arthur. Some monstrous error.
You work in a lab? I asked venomously. How can you be so sure its an error?
Because I know, Poppy said firmly. I never cheated. I had no other man before you. You know that.
Arthur broke free, his voice shaking. I dont understand. Whos my real father?
Silence fell heavy. I sank back into the chair, anger draining from me. Poppy pressed her hands to her mouth, trying to hold back sobs.
I want the truth, Arthur said quietly. All of it.
Poppy nodded slowly. Youre right. You deserve to know. Its just complicated.
Whats complicated? I sneered. Just name the real father.
Its not about that, Poppy breathed. Remember I told you about my sister, Nora?
The one who died before I was born? Arthur recalled. In a car crash?
Yes, she said, sitting down. Nora was my twin. We looked alike, but our temperaments were opposite. She was bold, artistic, always in trouble. I was the quiet, homebound one.
I frowned. What does your sister have to do with this?
It matters, Poppy said, meeting my eyes. Nora was seven months pregnant when the crash happened. The doctors saved the babya boy.
Arthur gasped. What? Youre saying
Arthur is Noras son, Poppy whispered. Wed only just started seeing each other when she fell. The father vanished after learning about the pregnancy. After the accident, my parents, already elderly and grieving, couldnt care for a newborn. I decided to raise him as my own.
So thats why you rushed into marriage, I muttered. I thought you were crazy about me.
I was crazy about you, she said, pleading. I loved you, knew you were a good man who would accept the child.
And you never told me he wasnt my son! I snapped. You made me believe I was his father!
I wanted to tell you, tears streamed down her cheeks. I was afraid youd leave. Then I feared youd hate me. And then it was too late. Youd grown so attached to Arthur.
Loved, I echoed hollowly.
Does that mean youre not my mother? Arthurs voice quivered.
No, love, Poppy rushed to him, hugging him. Technically Im your aunt. But Ive raised you, loved you every day of your life. To me youre always my son.
Arthur stared at her, trying to absorb the revelation. And my real mother Nora what was she like?
She was beautiful, daring, talented. Youve got her eyes, that laugh. When you grin, I hear her.
And my real father? he asked.
I dont know, Poppy admitted. Nora never told anyone. He fled when he learned about the baby.
I sat, clutching my head. Fifteen years why didnt you tell me sooner?
I was scared, she whispered. Scared of losing you. Then I thought the truth would destroy everything. You loved Arthur; you were his dad in every way that mattered. Does it matter whose blood runs through his veins?
The difference is trust, Ol I mean, Poppy, I said, voice cracking. The truth. You made decisions for me. I had no choice.
I know, she said, kneeling. Im guilty. I still love you. I still love Arthur more than my own life.
I stared at her, then at Arthur, who was still trying to make sense of it all.
What do you feel? I asked.
Arthur shrugged. I dont know. It feels odd, like Ive become someone else.
Youre not someone else, Poppy said firmly. Youre the same Arthur, just with a little more of your story.
What about pictures? he asked suddenly. Do you have any of my real mother?
Yes, she nodded. A whole album. Ill show you everything I remember.
I stood up. I need to be alone for a bit. Think.
David, Poppy rose, I understand how you feel. Please dont make any rash decisions. Were a family. Fifteen years weve been a family.
A family built on lies isnt a family, I said, shaking my head. You deceived me all this time.
Yes, I deceived you, she agreed. And Im to blame. But I loved Arthur and raised him as my own. You loved him as your son. Isnt that real?
I looked at Arthur, then at Poppy. You know whats ironic? I ordered this test because I kept noticing Arthur didnt look like meneither in looks nor temperament. I was angry at him, thinking he refused to be like me. Turns out
Turns out I never could be like you, Arthur whispered. Genetics.
Its not about genetics, I said, surprising myself with calm. I was wrong too. Fifteen years I taught you to ride a bike, helped with homework, drove you to training. I loved you. My anger lately was really at myself, because something felt off and I didnt understand it.
What now? Arthur asked. Whats next?
I dont know, I admitted. Honestly, I need time to sort this out.
Poppy, she stepped toward me. Im sorry, truly. Please dont go. Lets talk when the heats out of it.
I nodded. Well talk, but not now. I need my space.
I moved toward the door, then stopped. Arthur, whatever happens between me and your mother know this: those fifteen years were real. I was your father then, and in some way I always will be.
The door closed behind me. Poppy and Arthur stood in the kitchen, unsure where to look.
Do you hate me? Poppy asked quietly.
Arthur met her gazegrey like Noras, like hers. No. I dont know. Everythings a mess.
Yes, a mess, she said. But one thing Im certain of: I love you, Arthur. From the moment I saw you, a tiny, helpless infant, I loved you. You were my sisters son, but to me youve always been my son. That will never change.
What about dad? Will he come back?
I dont know. Hes a good man, Arthur. Hes hurting now.
It hurts too, Arthur admitted. It feels like Ive become someone else.
Youre still you, Poppy said, touching his shoulder. You just know a bit more about where you come from. It doesnt change you.
He nodded and, surprisingly, pulled her into a hug. Thanks for not sending me to a childrens home. For raising me as yours.
She held him close, tears threatening again. Youre mine. Always have been.
That night none of us slept. We sat in the kitchen, flipping through old photo albums. Poppy showed pictures of two girls who looked like twinsher and Nora. She was a brilliant artist, Poppy said, brushing the faded images. Wanted to move to London, become famous. I was the homebody, dreaming of family.
And she got both, Arthur murmured softly.
Yes, she smiled through tears. She got the greatest thing she could ever haveher son.
The next morning, exhausted from the sleepless night, a knock soundedWhen I finally opened the door, I found my family standing together, ready to rebuild what had never truly been broken.
