I’ve never been liked by my husband’s mother, but once our baby was born, things took a turn I didn’t anticipate. I consented to the DNA test when my loyalty was called into question, but not before establishing equality.
Despite two layoffs and assisting Ben in starting his firm from the ground up, I have remained faithful to him since the beginning. Additionally, I tolerated his mother, Karen, who always acted as though I was an outsider whenever we attended a family gathering.
I could tell she didn’t think I was good enough, even though she never explicitly stated it.
A “professional” family was not what I came from. I was not raised in an era of mimosa fountain breakfasts or country clubs.
She nearly lost it when I informed Ben that I wanted to elope rather than have a lavish wedding. He appeared interested in the concept the night I brought it up, and I recall that we were sitting in bed with our legs crossed, simply discussing the future.
However, what happened when Karen learned that we really went through it? It was obvious to her that it was just another reason I didn’t belong.
Nevertheless, I believed that when I gave birth to our boy, everything would be different. My son was born with the same small gap in his chin, dark eyes, and his father’s hair. I hoped that at last I would feel like a member of the family.
Instead, I was caught off guard.
After I gave birth, Karen came to the house once. Like the ideal grandmother, she smiled and cooed as she held him in our living room. Then she was gone. Weeks passed. No texts, no calls, no inquiries about my needs or how we were doing.
I began to experience that familiar pain once more, that feeling of being alone in your own home when you know that someone else is silently criticizing you.
I cuddled up with a book on the sofa one evening after we had put our son to sleep in his crib and everything in the house was peaceful.
When Ben entered from the corridor and took a seat next to me, I knew something wasn’t right.
He remained silent for a while. Just gazed at his hands, then at the floor.
At last, he began to speak.
“Baby… According to my mom, we ought to have a DNA test done. In fact, Dad also thinks it’s a fantastic idea.
I waited for a smile from him. To state, “Just kidding,” as in “Can you believe they said that?” However, he didn’t.
Rather, he clarified that, just in case, Karen had finally called and requested him to do it. She and her husband had read about women who deceive men into caring for the children of other men.
“Do you think we should?” I asked quietly when he finished talking.
He refused to look into my eyes. It wouldn’t hurt to acquire some clarity, would it? He simply rubbed his palms together. It would silence them, after all, and we’d have the evidence.
I didn’t shout. I refrained from crying. But I felt a fracture in my gut.
I put my book down on the sofa table and responded, “Sure,” “Let’s get started. But only under one restriction.
He looked up and blinked. “What?”
I said, “You test your mom, too,” “Do a DNA test between you and your dad.”
He leaned back and raised his eyebrows, asking, “Why?”
I got up and crossed my arms as I paced the room.
“If your mom can throw around cheating accusations based on nothing, then I’d like to know if she’s so sure about her own past,” I replied. “Fair’s fair, yeah?”
At first, Ben remained silent. He merely gazed at me. Then he slowly nodded.
“Okay,” he scowled and said. “You’re right. I will. However, we first keep it private.
And that was all.
It was simple to get our son to take the test. I held him while a local lab swabbed his cheek during our brief session. He didn’t notice anything strange because he was too busy trying to bite the tech’s glove.
The DNA of Ben’s father was more difficult to obtain. We needed to think outside the box.
About a week later, we invited his parents to join us for supper. Karen placed the pie she always brings on the counter.
Ben’s father sat down in the living room and talked about his golf game as if nothing had happened.
Ben casually gave his dad a toothbrush from a wellness product line he claimed to be investigating for the company as the evening came to an end.
“Hey, Dad, try this out for me?” “I said.” “I’m considering using the startup to sell it. It’s better for the environment.
His father shrugged, carried it to the restroom, and brushed mindlessly.
He claimed that the toothbrush was identical to his own when he returned outside. After glancing at me, Ben advised his father to simply leave it in the restroom.
The following day, we ship the samples.
The mission is finished.
Our son’s first birthday was a few weeks later. Only our immediate relatives attended the tiny birthday celebration. I used silver and blue balloons to adorn the living room.
Before it was time to cut the cake, we played some games while it sat on the dining table. We took turns trying to get my kid to blow out the candle while we sang.
I put him to bed because he was exhausted immediately after finishing his dessert.
Everyone was chatting informally when I returned, so I nodded to Ben and took an envelope out of the kitchen drawer.
I smiled and continued, “We have a little surprise for everyone,”
Everyone looked at me.
Looking directly at Karen, I stated, “Ben and I decided to get a DNA test for our son because some folks had doubts.”
Since my child clearly resembled Ben, everyone with common sense appeared perplexed.
However, Karen had a smug little smile on her face as she sat in the recliner.
She must have been certain that I was a terrible lady.
I took out the paperwork after opening the mail. “And guess what?” “I said.” “He’s 100% Ben’s kid.”
Karen’s tiny smile vanished.
Ben added, “But that’s not all,” as he got up from the couch and took another envelope out of his desk drawer.
“Since we were doing DNA tests anyway,” I said, “we figured we’d check if Ben’s related to his dad too.”
Karen’s mouth fell and her face became white. She exclaimed, “What?!” after a moment.
My response was, “Seemed only fair,” “Under the circumstances, right?”
Ben opened the second packet, and the room fell silent. We had not even looked. However, my spouse blinked a lot and looked at the paper for a lot longer than I had anticipated.
“Dad…” he gulped and said. “Turns out, I’m not your son.”
The room reverberated with gasps. Karen got to her feet so quickly that the chair almost fell over.
“You had NO RIGHT—” she screamed as she approached me.
Ben, however, put one hand up to halt her as he stood between us.
He said, “You accused my wife of cheating, Mom,” “Turns out, you were projecting.”
Karen glanced at everyone who was staring, then started crying and fell back in her chair.
For a minute, that was the only sound, and then Ben’s father got up gradually. He remained silent. simply went to the table, picked up his keys, and walked out.
***
Days later, Karen continued to call. Early morning, mid-afternoon, and occasionally late at night. We didn’t respond. I didn’t want to hear the sobbing, the justifications, or the version of events she was prepared to fabricate.
However, the quiet wasn’t simple either. After the DNA issue was resolved, our marriage became the actual issue.
Karen wasn’t the only person who had harmed me. Ben had also requested the test.
He hadn’t confronted her. His words had not been, “No, Mom, don’t be ridiculous.” That was the most painful aspect.
But he felt terrible about it. He had apologized more times than I could remember, and each time he did so with genuine sincerity rather than in a hurried, guilty manner.
He once commented, “I don’t know what I was thinking,” one evening. I simply didn’t want to get into a confrontation with her. didn’t want to think she had no justification for saying it. I was foolish.
I chose therapy despite knowing that others would have left this relationship. We sat talking the difficult things for weeks in a little room with beige walls and a box of Kleenex on the table between us.
“It’s not just the DNA test,” I informed him at one session. “The lack of trust is the problem. I had never given you any reason to question me, but you didn’t believe me.”
With moist eyes, he nodded. “I understand. I made a mistake. Never again will I question you.”
So far, he has fulfilled that pledge. That’s what I must give him.
We worked through it over time, but it didn’t happen all at once. He paid closer attention. He stood up for me. His mom’s family tried to persuade us to speak with her, but he blocked their remarks.
At last, I completely forgiven him—not because I forgot, but because he took responsibility for his mistakes.
However, the connection with Karen is nearly shattered. I tried listening to a message, but it was rife with guilt trips and sloppy justifications.
We’ve blocked her ever since I removed it before it was finished.
Shortly after the celebration, Ben’s father filed for divorce. I’m not sure what they discussed, but he also stopped talking to Karen.
He started coming to see us more often without her, and his relationship with Ben hasn’t altered. Fortunately.
In the meantime, our son continued to develop while babbling, giggling, and learning to walk by holding onto the coffee table’s edge.
Additionally, both results and the DNA documents are still in a drawer. We haven’t given them another glance.
Here’s a more tale: My mother-in-law surreptitiously took a DNA test because she was so determined to prove my son wasn’t related to her. Our family wasn’t merely shaken by what she found that day. Everything she believed to be true about herself was totally upended by it.
Although this work has been fictionalized for artistic reasons, it is based on actual individuals and events. To preserve privacy and improve the story, names, characters, and specifics have been altered. Any likeness to real people—living or dead—or real events is entirely accidental and not the author’s intention.
The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any misunderstanding and offer no guarantees regarding the veracity of events or character portrayals. This story is presented “as is,” and the opinions stated are those of the characters and do not represent the publisher’s or author’s.
