**Diary Entry 15th November**
I never imagined the man I marriedthe father of my childwould stare me in the face and question whether our son was truly his. Yet there I was, perched on our cream sofa, holding our little boy while my husband and his parents hurled accusations like stones.
It started with a glance. When my mother-in-law, Margaret, first laid eyes on Oliver in the hospital, her lips pursed. Leaning towards my husband, William, while I pretended to sleep, she murmured, He doesnt look like a Whitmore. I feigned ignorance, but her words stung sharper than my C-section scars.
At first, William brushed it off. We joked about how newborns change, how Oliver had my cheekbones and Williams brow. But that seed of suspicion took root, and Margaret nurtured it relentlessly.
Funny, William had green eyes as a baby, shed remark, tilting Oliver toward the window. Strange his are so brown.
One evening, when Oliver was three months old, William returned late from work. I was on the sofa feeding him, my hair unbrushed, exhaustion clinging to me like damp wool. He didnt kiss me hello. Just stood there, arms folded.
We need to talk, he said.
I knew instantly.
Mum and Dad think perhaps a DNA test would help. Just to be sure.
To be sure? My voice cracked. You believe Id betray you?
William shifted awkwardly. No, Beatrice. Of course not. But theyre concerned. I just want to put this to restfor everyone.
My stomach knotted. *For everyone.* Not for me. Not for Oliver. For *them.*
Fine, I said after a beat, swallowing back tears. You want a test? Youll get one. But I want something in return.
William frowned. What?
If I endure this insult, then you promisehere, now, in front of your parentsthat anyone still doubting me after this is cut off. For good.
William hesitated. Behind him, Margaret stiffened, arms crossed, lips thin as a blade.
And if I refuse?
I met his gaze, Olivers soft breaths warm against my chest. Then you all leave. Dont come back.
The silence thickened. Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but William silenced her with a look. He *knew* I hadnt lied. Oliver was his sonhis double, if hed only see past his mothers venom.
Alright, William muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. Well do it. And if it proves you right, thats the end of it.
Margarets face soured. This is absurd, she hissed. If youve nothing to hide
Oh, Ive nothing to hide, I cut in. But *you* doyour spite, your meddling. It ends the moment those results arrive. Or youll never see your son or grandson again.
William flinched but stayed silent.
Two days later, a nurse swabbed Olivers tiny mouth as he fussed in my arms. William did his, jaw tight. That night, I cradled Oliver close, whispering apologies he couldnt understand.
I barely slept. William dozed on the sofaI couldnt bear him in our bed while he doubted me *and* our child.
When the results came, William read them first. His knees hit the floor, the paper trembling. Beatrice Im so sorry. I never shouldve
Dont apologise to me, I said coldly, lifting Oliver onto my lap. Apologise to your son. And to yourself. Because you lost something you cant reclaim.
But my fight wasnt over. The test was just the start.
William knelt there, clutching the proof of what he shouldve known all along. His eyes were red, but I felt nothingno warmth, no pity. Just hollow where trust had been.
Behind him, Margaret and my father-in-law, Edward, stood frozen. Margarets lips were bloodless. She couldnt meet my eye. *Good.*
You promised, I said evenly, rocking Oliver, who cooed obliviously. If the test cleared the air, anyone still doubting me would be gone.
William swallowed. Beatrice, 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 family. Called me a liarall because she cant stand not pulling your strings.
Margaret stepped forward, voice quivering with fury. Beatrice, dont be theatrical. We did what any decent family would. We had to know
No, I interrupted. Decent families trust. Decent husbands dont make wives *prove* their childs theirs. You wanted proof? You got it. Now youll get your due.
William blinked. What do you mean?
I took a steadying breath, Olivers heartbeat against mine. I want you all out. Now.
Margaret gasped. Edward spluttered. William paled. What? Beatrice, you cantthis is *our* home
No, I said firmly. Its Olivers home. Mine and his. And you three shattered it. You humiliated me. You wont raise my son where his mothers called a liar.
William stood, guilt fading into anger. Beatrice, be reasonable
I *was* reasonable, I snapped. When I agreed to that vile test. When I bit my tongue as your mother criticised my cooking, my hair, my family. I was reasonable letting her near us at all.
I rose, clutching Oliver tighter. But Im done. Stay if you want. But your parents leave. Today. Or you *all* go.
Margarets voice turned shrill. William! Youd allow this? Your own mother
William looked at me, then Oliver, then the floor. For the first time in years, he seemed like a boy in his own house. He turned to Margaret and Edward. Mum. Dad. You should go.
The silence shattered Margarets composure. Her face twisted with rage. Edward touched her shoulder, but she shook him off.
This is your wifes doing, she spat at William. Dont expect forgiveness.
She turned to me, eyes like flint. Youll regret this. When he comes crawling back
I smiled. Goodbye, Margaret.
Minutes later, Edward gathered their coats, mumbling apologies William couldnt answer. Margaret left without a backward glance. The door clicked shut, and the house felt largerlighter.
William slumped on the sofa, staring at his hands. When he looked up, his voice was ragged. Beatrice Im sorry. I shouldve defended youdefended *us.*
I nodded. Yes. You should have.
He reached for my hand. I let him hold itbrieflythen pulled away. William, I dont know if I can forgive this. You broke my trust in you.
Tears welled in his eyes. Tell me how to fix it. Ill do anything.
I gazed down at Oliver, his tiny fingers curled around my jumper. Start by earning it back. Be the father he deserves. The husband I deserveif you want that chance. And if you *ever* let them near us without my say, youll lose us. Understood?
William nodded, shoulders sagging. Understood.
In the weeks that followed, things shifted. Margaret called, pleaded, threatenedI ignored her. William did too. He came home early, took Oliver for walks so I could rest, cooked dinners. He looked at our son like he was seeing him anewperhaps he was.
Rebuilding trust is slow. Some nights, I lie awake wondering if Ill ever see William the same way. But every morning, when I watch him feeding Oliver toast, making him giggle, I thinkperhapswe might mend.
Were not perfect. But were ours. And for now, thats enough.
