His Knees, His Pleas, But Our Son's in Peace

13

Nathan found out the truth the next day. The DNA test confirmed what should have been obvious from the start-Oliver was his son. But by then, it was too late.

I found him sitting on the sofa, disheveled and broken, Oliver's photograph in his hands. The picture was from my luggage, a photo of Oliver smiling, his eyes wide and bright. Eyes that looked exactly like Nathan's.

I stood in the doorway, watching him. His shoulders slumped, and for the first time in a long while, I saw the man I had fallen in love with, hidden beneath all the pain and betrayal. But it didn't matter anymore. The damage was done. The trust had been shattered beyond repair. Nathan sat slumped in the armchair, his unkempt beard and

disheveled hair making him look like a man who hadn't seen the light of day in weeks. The room reeked of cigar smoke, the remnants of his vices sca**ed across the floor-cigar butts, empty bottles, and crumpled papers. He looked like a man who had aged a dozen years overnight, the weight of guilt dragging him down.

His hands trembled as he looked up at me, eyes hollow, searching for something that wasn't there. "Doris... I didn't think Oliver was my child," his voice cracked. "I always thought..."

He fell to his knees, pulling at the hem of my skirt as if that would

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His Knees His Mess But Der Son's in Basco

anchor him to the reality slipping from his grasp.

"Thought?" My voice was ice. "Was it because you thought so, or because you trusted Sienna too much?"

Nathan flinched at Sienna's name. The truth cut deep, and I wasn't about to let him off so easily. "Nathan, if you had even the slightest bit of judgment, you could have found out the truth at any time. You had three yea***ry single day*-to do something. But you didn't." His remorseful eyes met mine, bloodshot from sleepless nights, filled with regret. "I didn't dare," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Doris, I was scared. Scared that the test would come back and confirm..."

"Confirm what?" I interrupted, my voice laced with contempt. "That it wasn't your child? That you weren't cheated on? So what if the test came back negative? You didn't want to marry me anyway."

He shook his head vehemently, his hands still clutching my skirt as if he could hold onto the last shred of hope. "No, Doris, you don't understand. I was terrified that if the baby really was Issca's, and I confronted you... you'd leave me. You'd take Oliver and walk out of my life for good."