Not yet, no. And that doubt… God, that doubt was eating me alive. Mum scooted closer, her eyes narrowing. ‘Don’t be naïve, Brent. Stephanie betrayed you, and you need to realise that fact. I know you love her, but you can’t ignore the truth.’ Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Betrayal. I wanted to yell at my mother, to tell her she was wrong, but the words stuck in my throat.
Some small, cruel part of me whispered that maybe she was right. ‘Mum, I…I don’t know,’ I admitted, feeling the ground start to leave under my feet. ‘I don’t know what to think right now.’ She softened a little and reached out to touch my arm. ‘Brent, you need to get away from her. You deserve better than this. She’s clearly not who you thought she was.’ I pulled away from her, shaking my head. ‘No, you don’t understand. This isn’t just about me.
My wife and daughter are there. I can’t just walk away.’ Mum threw me a pitying look. ‘Brent, sometimes you have to make hard decisions for your own good. You deserve the truth.’ I turned away from her. ‘Yes, I deserve the truth. But I’m not going to make any decisions until I get it. I’m going to get to the bottom of this, Mum. And whatever I find out, I’m going to deal with it. But until then, I’m not giving up on Stephanie.’
She sighed, clearly unhappy with my answer, but didn’t insist further. ‘Just be careful, Brent. Don’t let your love for her blind you.’ With those words, I turned and walked away. I couldn’t stand listening to her doubts anymore when I had so many of my own. By the time I reached the geneticist’s office, my heart was pounding in my chest, reminding me that everything was at stake.
The doctor was calm and professional, explaining the DNA test process as if it were a routine test. But for me, it was not routine at all. I had blood drawn, swabbed the inside of my cheek, and was promised that the results would be ready as soon as possible. I spent those hours in the small waiting area going over everything in my head.
I kept remembering Stephanie’s face, the way she looked at me, so desperate for me to believe her. And the baby with my eyes and dimples. My heart clung to those details like a lifeline. But then I heard my mum’s voice in my head telling me I was a fool for not seeing the truth. Finally, the bell rang. I could barely hear the doctor’s voice over the noise of blood in my ears.
But then the words cut through the noise, ‘The test confirmed that you are the biological father.’ At first relief swept over me like a wave crashing over me, and then guilt, so acute it took my breath away. How could I have doubted her? How could I have let those seeds of suspicion take root in my mind? But the doctor wasn’t done yet. She talked about recessive genes, how traits passed down from generation to generation could suddenly appear in a child.
It made sense scientifically, but it didn’t take away the shame of not trusting Stephanie. The truth was clear now, but that didn’t make me feel like an idiot. I let the doubts creep into my soul, let them poison what should have been the happiest day of our lives. When I opened the door, Stephanie looked up, her eyes full of a hope I didn’t deserve. I crossed the room in three quick steps and handed her the paper.
Her hands shook as she read, and then she broke down, tears of relief streaming down her face. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. ‘I’m so sorry I doubted you.’ She shook her head and pulled me to her, cradling our daughter against her. ‘Everything will be okay now,’ she said quietly. And as I hugged them both, I made a silent vow: no matter what came our way, no matter who tried to separate us, I would protect my family. This was my wife and my child, and I would never again let doubt or judgement come between us.