“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” I said, frowning.
Then Paul grabbed a sheet of paper from the coffee table and threw it at me. I wanted to yell at him for treating me like that, but as soon as I looked down, my breath caught.
It was a DNA test result. For Paul and Austin.
The probability of paternity was zero.
I just sat there, frozen. It felt like a joke, some sick joke.
“What does this even mean? You took a test?” I asked, still staring at the paper.
“No, I did,” Vanessa cut in. “But that’s not the issue. The issue is the result!”
“I never cheated on you! Paul, this is not true! ” I protested.
“But it is,” Vanessa snapped. “And you know it, so stop pretending.”
“No! You hate me so much you’d fake something this serious?!”
“There’s nothing fake here. I took Paul’s toothbrush and the spoon Austin ate with. The samples were real. The result’s accurate,” Vanessa declared coldly.
“No, Paul! You have to believe me! Austin is your son! I’ve never been unfaithful!” I cried in despair.
“I’ve already packed a bag. It’s in the car. I need some time alone, without either of you,” Paul said, standing up.
“No, please don’t go,” I begged.
“Don’t call me. Don’t text me. I won’t answer.”
Paul walked out the door with Vanessa following him. I collapsed on the couch, still clutching that damn test result in my hands. I knew it couldn’t be true. I had never cheated. But I had no idea how to prove it.
That night was hell.
Austin kept asking where Daddy was and when he was coming back, and I had no idea what to tell him.
I could not believe Paul had fallen for Vanessa’s manipulation so easily. But I also could not entirely blame him. She had shown him “proof.”
Hours went by, and all I could think about was Paul and that stupid test. I kept going over possibilities in my mind, trying to figure out how the result could be wrong. One conclusion I reached was that the lab might not be reliable.
I decided to do a test myself.
So, the following day, I submitted samples from myself and Austin to the lab and waited.
A week later, I got an email with the results.
I sat in front of my laptop, hands trembling, and opened the attachment.
Probability of maternity: 0%.
I knew it! I knew that lab was awful! There was no way that could be accurate.
I’d gone through sixteen hours of labor — I was absolutely, without question, his mother.
I printed out the results and headed straight to Vanessa’s house, because I knew Paul was staying there.
When I arrived later, I rang the doorbell again and again, impatiently, until Paul finally opened the door.
“Mary, what are you doing here? I thought I made it clear I don’t want to see you right now.”
I held the test result up in front of him.
“Look. I took a test too, and it says Austin’s not my son either.”
Paul’s expression changed from anger to something close to fear. I had expected shock, maybe relief — but not fear.
“Do you realize what that means?” he asked quietly.
“It means that the lab is a joke.”
“That lab is one of the best. I actually did another test at a second lab. The results were the same,” Paul murmured.
“But I didn’t cheat on you!”
“I believe you now. But you don’t seem to understand what this means,” Paul said slowly.
“What are you talking about?”
