Marcus’ world is shattered the first time he sees his newborn baby. He is ready to leave his wife Elena since he believes she has betrayed him. But before he can, she discloses a truth that makes him question everything. Is love enough to keep them together?
“I don’t want you in the delivery room,” she said.
Elena wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I just… I need to do this part on my own. Please understand.”
I didn’t really comprehend. But I loved Elena more than anything, and I trusted her.
The next morning, we went to the hospital. Hours passed by. I roamed the waiting area, drank too much awful coffee, and looked at my phone every two minutes. Eventually, a doctor emerged. Something wasn’t right.
“Mr. Johnson?” he said, his voice grave. “You’d better come with me.”
Was Elena okay? The baby? We reached the delivery room, and the doctor pushed open the door. I rushed in, desperate to see Elena.
She was there, looking exhausted but alive.
The infant, our kid, had skin as pale as fresh snow, wisps of blonde hair, and shockingly blue eyes.
“What the hell is this?”
“Marcus, I can explain—”
I cut her off, my voice rising. “Don’t lie to me, Elena! I’m not an idiot. That is not our baby!”
The fight drained out of me in an instant, replaced by utter confusion. “I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Elena took a deep breath. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have told you years ago.”
Elena started explaining as soon as the baby stopped crying.
During our engagement, she had some genetic tests. The results revealed that she possessed a rare recessive gene that might lead a child to have pale skin and light features, independent of the parents’ appearance.
“I didn’t tell you because the odds were so slim,” she said, her voice trembling. “And I didn’t think it would matter. We loved each other, and that was all that counted.”
I sank into a chair, my head spinning. “But how…?”
“You must carry the gene too,” Elena explained.
“Both parents can carry it without knowing, and then…” She gestured to our baby.
Our tiny girl was now sleeping soundly, oblivious to the chaos surrounding her.
My family had been eager to meet the newest member. But when they saw our pale-skinned, blonde-haired baby of joy, all hell broke out.
“What kind of joke is this?” my mother, Denise, demanded, her eyes narrowing as she looked from the baby to Elena.
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I stepped in front of my wife, shielding her from the accusatory glares. “It’s not a joke, Mom. This is your grandchild.”
My sister Tanya scoffed. “Come on, Marcus. You can’t seriously expect us to believe that.”
“It’s true,” I insisted, trying to keep my voice calm. “Elena and I both carry a rare gene. The doctor explained everything.”
But they weren’t listening.
I recounted what had happened, watching Elena’s face flush with hurt and rage. She had been so patient and compassionate in the face of my family’s misgivings. But this was going too far.
“I think it’s time your family left,” Elena said quietly.
I nodded, turning to face my mother. “Mom, I love you, but this has to stop. Either you accept our child or you don’t get to be part of our lives. It’s that simple.”
Denise’s face hardened. “You’re choosing her over your own family?”
“The next few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights, diaper changes, and tense phone calls from family members.
One afternoon, as I was rocking the baby to sleep, Elena approached me with a determined look in her eye.
“I think we should get a DNA test,” she said quietly.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s do it.”
Finally, the day arrived.
“Mr. and Mrs. Johnson,” he began, “I have your results here.”
The doctor opened the folder and grinned. “The DNA test confirms that you, Mr. Johnson, are indeed the father of this child.”
I convened a family meeting after receiving the test results.
I stood in front of them with the test results in hand. “I know you’ve all had your doubts,” I said, my voice firm. “However, it is time to put them to rest. We had a DNA test done.
I shared the results around, watching as people read the undeniable fact. Some appeared astonished, while others were mortified. My mother’s hands shook while holding the paper.
“I… I don’t understand,” she whispered softly. “All that recessive gene stuff was true?”
“Of course it was,” I answered.
Elena, always more gracious than I could be, stood up, and hugged her. “Of course we can,” she said softly. “We’re family.”
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