David Bennett slammed his mug onto the kitchen table, the porcelain shattering against the wood as tea splashed across the floral runner.
Your son isnt mine, he declared, eyes hard as steel, holding up a printed sheet of DNA results. Fifteen years of marriage, and youve been lying to me.
Imogen Bennetts voice was low, but every word rang like a cold blade. Arthurs only fifteen, David. Hes a child. They were all together, playing, and the window broke. Its not the end of the world.
A child? David scoffed. I was doing summer jobs at sixteen, helping my dad. And you expect me to believe my own son is just running around smashing glass? This isnt the first time hes gotten into trouble.
Imogen drew a deep breath, fighting the flare of irritation. Arthur does well at school, swims regularly. Yes, today they were foolish, but
But again! David snapped. You always have an excuse for his misbehaviour. And you know whats odd? His attitude isnt what I grew up with. In my family we honoured our elders and never behaved like this.
What does your family have to do with it? Imogen shook her head. Times have changed, David.
Its not the times, he muttered, turning his back to the broken window. Its the blood.
Imogen stared, bewildered, before the front door slammed open. Arthur strode intall, lanky, russet hair in disarray, gray eyes that mirrored his mothers. He tossed his backpack onto the floor.
Hey, he muttered, slinging the bag.
If you ever throw anything at me again, youll regret it, David growled.
Arthur rolled his eyes. Come off it, Dad, its just a backpack.
Not just a backpack, but your attitudeto things, to this house, to the rules, David clenched his fists. Kostass parents called about the broken window at school.
Arthur shot his mother a quick glance. We were just playing ball in the yard. It hit the window by accident.
Accidentally? David huffed. And it was the headmasters office window?
How was I supposed to know it was the headmasters office?
If I had known, would I have aimed elsewhere? Davids voice trembled with bitterness.
David, enough, Imogen interjected. Arthur, dinners on the stove. Eat and then do your homework.
Arthur nodded, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the kitchen. David watched him leave with a heavy stare.
Dont you think youre being too hard? Imogen asked once the door closed.
And dont you think youre coddling him? David retorted. Surprise, surprise.
What do you mean?
Nothing. Forget it, he waved his hand and left the room.
Imogen stood alone in the sitting room, a cold shiver crawling up her spine. Lately David had become increasingly irritable, picking apart Arthurs every mistake. Their marriage had always been a tightropeDavid accusing her of being too soft, Imogen arguing he was too demanding. In recent months, something new had crept into his accusations, a hidden hurt or suspicion.
The evening stretched in strained silence. Arthur shut himself in his bedroom, David sat in his study, Imogen tried to read but her thoughts tangled. The phrase about blood haunted her.
Later, in the dark bedroom, Imogen turned to David and whispered, Whats happening between you and Arthur? Why are you reacting so sharply to his actions?
David stayed silent long enough for Imogen to assume hed fallen asleep. Then he turned over, his voice barely audible. I just want him to grow into a proper manresponsible, not like…
Like who?
Doesnt matter. Sleep.
Morning brought no relief. At breakfast all three ate in hushed tension. Arthur finished his toast and left for secondary school without the usual paternal lecture. David stared at his phone, not lifting his eyes.
Ill be late today, he said, sipping the last of his coffee. Business meeting.
Alright, Imogen replied. Ill sort dinner.
No need, David rose. I dont know when Ill be back.
The day crawled. Imogen worked from home, translating articles for a scientific journal, but her mind kept looping back to the blood comment, Davids odd behaviour, the widening gulf between father and son.
When Arthur returned, his mood was bright. He told them hed made peace with the headmaster and apologised for the window.
Weve decided to take a weekend job to pay for the glass, he said, helping Imogen chop vegetables.
Thats a good idea, Imogen smiled. Dad will be pleased.
Arthur snorted. I doubt it. Hes been unhappy with me no matter what I do.
Dont say that, Imogen soothed, patting his back. He just worries about you, wants you to become a decent man.
A decent man like him? Arthurs voice trembled with hurt. Who comes home and immediately starts criticizing everyone?
Arthur, dont speak like that about your father, Imogen warned.
Sorry, he lowered his head. Sometimes it feels like he never loved me. Never will.
Imogens heart clenched. She wrapped her arms around him. Thats not true. He loves you, he just shows it badly.
Arthur shrugged. If you say so
Evening fell, and David never arrived. By ten he still hadnt called. Imogen tried repeatedly, but his line was dead. It was oddDavid always warned if hed be late.
Arthur went to bed while Imogen sipped cooling tea, waiting for the front door to click. When it finally did, David staggered in, the smell of whisky clinging to him.
Where have you been? Ive been worrying, Imogen stepped forward.
David stared at her, his gaze oddly evaluative. Worrying? Really?
Of course I was, she snapped. You didnt answer my calls, didnt tell me where you were…
Fifteen years, he interrupted, swaying slightly. Fifteen years Ive been the model husbandworking, providing, never questioning. And you…
What? Imogen felt a chill settle in her gut.
You know what I always believed, David said, sinking into a chair. That we had a good, real family. I trusted you.
You still can trust me, Imogen whispered. I never lied to you.
David pulled a folded sheet from his jacket pocket, a cruel grin spreading. Truth? Whats this?
Whats that? Imogen asked, eyes wide.
The DNA test results. He spread the paper on the table. Your son isnt mine, Imogen. Fifteen years youve been leading me on.
The floor seemed to drop away. Imogen clutched the edge of the table to keep from collapsing.
What? How? When did you
Last week, David said, smug. I told Arthur we needed a safety check. He agreed. The results came today.
Imogens hands trembled as she lifted the paper. Medical jargon blurred; the headline was unmistakable: probability of paternity excluded.
This cant be right, she whispered. There must be a mistake.
A mistake? David laughed, hollow. Whos the real father then, Imogen? Who is Arthurs dad?
Youre the father, Imogen said firmly. Youre his father, David. I never
I thought I knew, David muttered, shaking his head. Fifteen years and now I find I raised someone elses child.
Imogen stared at him, horror and confusion mixing. David, this has to be an error. Maybe the lab mixed up samples, or
Or what? David lunged forward. Did you forget about your past affairs? Did you cheat on our wedding night?
Never! she cried, tears welling. I loved only you, from the start.
Then explain this! David slammed his palm on the paper. Explain why the DNA says Im not Arthurs father!
A sudden rustle at the kitchen doorway made them both turn. Arthur stood there, hair mussed from sleep, wearing a Tshirt and shorts, his face a picture of confusion.
Nothing, son, Imogen hurriedly said. Just an adult conversation. Go to bed.
This is whose? David repeated, his voice echoing. Whose son am I?
Arthurs eyes darted between them. Dad, whats happening?
David, dont, Imogen pleaded. Not in front of him.
Why not? David rose, swaying. He has a right to know. You have a right to know, Arthur. Do you want to know why Ive always been so strict? Because deep down I sensed you werent my blood.
Dad, youre drunk, Arthur whispered, backing toward the door.
Im not your dad! David shouted, sweeping the mug off the table. Look! He thrust the DNA sheet into Arthurs hands. Proof that Ive been living a lie for fifteen years.
Arthurs face turned ashen as he read. Is this true? he asked his mother. Im not hes not
No! Imogen rushed to him, hugging him tightly. Its a mistake, Arthur. Some monstrous error.
Do you work in a lab? David snarled. What gives you the confidence that its a mistake?
Because I know the truth, Imogen said, steady. I never cheated. I never had another man before you.
Arthur pulled away, panic in his voice. Then who is my real father?
Silence settled like a heavy fog. David slumped back, his fury suddenly drained. Imogen clutched her hands over her mouth, fighting back sobs.
I want the full story, Arthur said quietly. All of it.
Imogen nodded slowly. You deserve that. Its complicated.
Whats complicated? David sneered. Just name the real father.
It isnt about a name, Imogen breathed. Do you remember I ever mentioned my sister, Naomi?
Your sister who died before I was born? Arthur recalled. In a car crash?
Yes, Imogen sat, her voice thin. Naomi was my twin. We looked alike, but our personalities were opposite. She was bold, artistic, always getting into trouble. I was the quiet, homebound one.
David frowned. What does that have to do with anything?
Naomi was seven months pregnant when the crash happened, Imogen continued. The baby survived. His father disappeared the moment he learned about the child. My parents were elderly and devastated. I decided to raise the boy as my own.
Arthur stared, his breath shallow. So Arthur is Naomis son?
Yes, Imogen whispered. We were only just starting our relationship when that happened. I kept it secret, fearing youd walk away, fearing youd hate me. I let you believe he was yours, and you loved him as if he were.
Davids fists clenched around the back of his chair. So you rushed into marriage because of a secret?
I was headoverheels for you, David, Imogen said, eyes pleading. I loved you and hoped youd accept my child.
You made me think he was mine! David roared. You forced me to live a lie!
Tears streamed down Imogens cheeks. I wanted to tell you so many times. I was terrified youd leave. Then you grew to love Arthur, truly. That bond mattered more than biology.
David stared at his son, then at his wife, the anger in his eyes flickering. The difference is trust, Imogen. You took that away.
I know, she whispered, dropping to her knees. Im guilty. I still love you. I still love Arthur more than anything.
David lingered on the chair, head in his hands. Fifteen years why didnt you tell me?
I was scared, Imogen admitted. Scared of losing you. Then I thought the truth would only destroy everything. I saw you as Arthurs father, and I didnt want to hurt you.
David lifted his gaze. I was angry at the deception, not the biology. I chose to love you both. Changing that now would be betrayalof you, of Arthur, of myself.
He turned to Arthur. What do you feel?
Arthur shrugged, voice shaky. I dont know. It feels strange, like Im suddenly someone else.
Youre still you, Imogen said firmly. Just with a little more of the story behind you.
Do you have pictures of my real mother? Arthur asked suddenly.
Imogen nodded. A whole album. Ill show you everything.
David rose, voice hoarse. I need some time alone.
David, Imogen rose, tears still wet, please dont make any rash decisions. Weve been a family for fifteen years.
Family isnt built on lies, David said, shaking his head. You deceived me all this time.
Imogen agreed. Yes, I deceived you. Im responsible. But I loved Arthur as my own. Does that not count for something?
David stared at his son, then at the DNA sheet crumpled in his hand. The irony is I ordered that test because Arthur never seemed like me. I was angry at him, not at the truth. And now
Arthur whispered, Im never going to be like you, genetically.
Davids voice softened. I taught you how to ride a bike, helped with homework, drove you to swim lessons. I loved you. My anger was really at myself for not seeing the truth sooner.
What now? Arthur asked. What happens next?
David took a deep breath. I dont know. Honestly, I need time to think.
Imogen stepped forward. Im sorry, David. I know Ive hurt you. Please stay. Lets talk when the anger fades. Were still a family.
David nodded slowly. Well talk, but not now. I need space.
He moved toward the door, then stopped. Arthur, whatever happens, the fifteen years weve shared were real. I was your father then, and in a way I always will be.
The door closed behind him. Imogen and Arthur remained in the kitchen, the silence heavy.
Do you hate me? Imogen asked quietly.
Arthur looked at her, his grey eyes reflecting a mixture of Naomis fire and his own confusion. No. I dont know. Everythings tangled.
Yes, tangled, Imogen agreed, but one thing I know: I love you, Arthur. From the moment I held you in the hospital, I loved you as my own. That will never change.
Arthurs shoulders relaxed a fraction, and he pulled her into a tight hug. Thank you for not giving me away.
She held him close, tears spilling over. Youre my son, always.
That night neither of them slept. They sat at the kitchen table, leafing through old photo albums. Imogen pointed out two identical girlsherself and Naomiboth with bright eyes and paintsplattered shirts. Naomi was a brilliant artist. She wanted to move to London, become famous. I was the homebody, dreaming of a family.
Arthur whispered, And I got both.
Imogen smiled through her sorrow. I got the most precious thingyou.
Morning light filtered through the curtains as a knock sounded. David stood in the doorway, unshaven, eyes red but clear.
May I come in? he asked.
Imogen stepped aside. David entered, finding Arthur flipping through the old pictures.
I see youve had a long night, he said, sitting opposite them.
It looks that way, Imogen replied.
David nodded slowly. Ive walked the streets until dawn, thinking. I was angry at the fact you werent my biological son. I was angry at the deception, at losing a choice. But then I realised the choice I made fifteen years agoto love youstill stands. It doesnt erase because of DNA.
Arthur looked at him, uncertainty flickering. Is that true?
Its true, David said, a faint smile appearing. Im still angry at you, Imogen, and I dont know if Ill ever fully forgive. But I want to try, for Arthurs sake, for the years we built together.
Imogen covered her face with her hands, sobbing softly. Thank you. I dont deserve this.
Davids tone hardened then softened. Its not about me. Its about us, this family, however unconventional its roots. Family is love, responsibility, carenot just blood.
Arthurs eyes widened. So youre my dad, even if not by DNA?
David chuckled lightly for the first time in months. Exactly. And youre my son, Arthurplain and simple.
Imogen looked between them, tears of relief and lingering pain. We have a lot to talk about, a lot to heal. But were still together.
David lifted a faded photograph of Naomi and placed it on the table. Tell me more about her. I want to know the woman who gave us this boy.
And so theyAs the first light of dawn painted the garden gold, they stood together, finally believing that love, not blood, would guide their future.
