**Diary Entry 15th October**
I never imagined the man I marriedthe father of my childwould ever stare me down and question whether our son was truly his. Yet there I sat, clutching our little boy on the worn Chesterfield sofa while my husband, William, 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, she pursed her lips. Whispering to William while I feigned sleep, she muttered, He doesnt look like a Prescott. I pretended not to hear, but her words sliced deeper than the stitches from my C-section.
At first, William brushed it off. We joked about how newborns change, how Oliver had my cheekbones and Williams forehead. But that seed of doubt took root, and Margaret nurtured it with every sly remark.
William had the most striking green eyes as a baby, shed muse, tilting Oliver toward the window. Strange, isnt it, that his are so brown?
One evening, when Oliver was three months old, William came home late from the office. I was slumped on the sofa, nursing the baby, exhaustion clinging to me like a sodden coat. He didnt even greet me. Just stood there, arms folded.
We need to talk, he said.
I already knew.
Mum and Dad think we ought to do a DNA test. Just to put this to rest.
Put *what* to rest? My voice cracked. You believe Id betray you?
William shifted awkwardly. No, Eleanor. Not at all. But theyre uneasy. I just want to settle itfor everyones sake.
My stomach twisted. *For everyones sake.* Not for me. Not for Oliver. For *them.*
Fine, I said after a silence, swallowing back tears. You want the test? Youll get it. But I want something in return.
William frowned. Like what?
If I endure this insult, then you swearhere, now, in front of your parentsthat anyone who still doubts me after this will be cut off completely.
William hesitated. Behind him, Margaret stiffened, arms crossed, lips pinched.
And if I refuse?
I held his gaze, feeling Olivers steady breaths against my chest. Then you can all walk out that door. Dont come back.
The room went still. Margaret opened her mouth to protest, but William shot her a look. He knew I wasnt bluffing. He *knew* Oliver was hisif only hed see past his mothers venom.
Fine, William said at last, raking a hand through his hair. Well do the test. And if it proves you right, thats the end of it. No more questions.
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 endless interference. It ends when this test does. Or youll never lay eyes on your son or grandson again.
William winced but stayed silent.
Two days later, the test was done. A nurse swabbed Olivers tiny mouth as he fussed in my arms. William did his, jaw tight. That night, I cradled Oliver close, rocking him, murmuring words he couldnt understand.
I barely slept. William dozed on the sofa. I couldnt stand him next to me while he doubted our child.
When the results arrived, William read them first. He sank to his knees before me, the paper shaking in his hands. Eleanor God, Im sorry. I should never have
Dont apologise to me, I said coldly, lifting Oliver from his cot and settling him on my lap. Apologise to your son. And to yourself. Because you lost something youll never reclaim.
But the fight wasnt over. The test was just the start.
William knelt there, clutching the proof of what he shouldve always known. His eyes were red, but I felt nothingno warmth, no sorrow. Just hollow where trust had been.
Behind him, Margaret and my father-in-law, Charles, stood frozen. Margarets lips were pressed so tight they whitened. She didnt dare meet my eyes. *Good.*
You promised, I said evenly, rocking Oliver, who cooed obliviously. You said if the test cleared the air, youd cut out anyone who still doubted me.
William swallowed. Eleanor, please. Shes my mother. She was only concerned
Concerned? 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 bear not pulling your strings.
Margaret stepped forward, voice quivering with indignation. Eleanor, dont be melodramatic. We did what any decent family would. We needed certainty
No, I interrupted. Decent families trust each other. Decent husbands dont make their wives prove their childs parentage. You wanted proof? Youve got it. Now youll get something else.
William stared at me, bewildered. Eleanor, what are you saying?
I drew a steadying breath, feeling Olivers heartbeat against mine. I want all of you gone. Now.
Margaret gasped. Charles spluttered. Williams face paled. What? Eleanor, you cantthis is *our* home
No, I said firmly. This is Olivers home. Mine and his. And you three shattered it. You humiliated me. You will *not* raise my son where his mothers word means nothing.
William stood, guilt giving way to anger. Eleanor, be reasonable
I *was* reasonable, I snapped. When I agreed to that vile test. When I bit my tongue as your mother snipped about my clothes, my cooking, my background. I was reasonable letting her into our lives at all.
I rose, holding Oliver tighter. But Im done with reasonable. Stay if you want. But your parents leave. Today. Or you all do.
Margarets voice turned shrill. William! Youre allowing this? Your own mother
William 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 Charles. Mum. Dad. Perhaps its best if you go.
The silence shattered Margarets composure. Her face twisted with rage. Charles touched her shoulder, but she shook him off.
This is your wifes doing, she spat at William. Dont expect absolution.
She turned to me, eyes like flint. Youll regret this. You think youve won, but youll regret it when he comes crawling back.
I smiled. Goodbye, Margaret.
Minutes later, Charles gathered their coats, murmuring apologies William couldnt answer. Margaret left without a backward glance. When the door clicked shut, the house felt quieter, emptierbut freer.
William sat on the sofas edge, staring at his hands. He looked up at me, voice barely audible. Eleanor Im sorry. I shouldve defended youdefended *us.*
I nodded. Yes. You should have.
He reached for my hand. I let him hold it brieflythen pulled away. William, I dont know if I can forgive this. You broke my trust in themand in you.
Tears welled in his eyes. Tell me how to fix it. Ill do anything.
I looked down at Oliver, who drowsily gripped my jumper. Start by earning it back. Be the father he deserves. Be the husband I marriedif you want that chance. And if you ever let them near us without my say-so, youll lose us for good. Understood?
William nodded, shoulders sagging. Understood.
In the weeks that followed, things shifted. Margaret called, pleaded, ragedI ignored her. William did too. He came home early, took Oliver for strolls so I could rest, made dinner. He looked at our son as if seeing him anewperhaps because, in a way, he was.
Rebuilding trust isnt simple. Some nights I lie awake wondering if Ill ever see William the same way. But every morning, when I watch him spoon porridge into Olivers mouth or make him giggle, I thinkperhapswe might be alright.
Were not perfect. But were ours. And for now, thats enough.
**Lesson learned:** Trust is fragile. Once broken, it takes more than apologies to mendit takes action. And sometimes, the hardest boundaries are the ones that save your family.
