James drove straight to the hotel. He was worried. The roads of Texas stretched before him, but he barely noticed the traffic or the red lights. All he could think about was Emily. Why was she in a hotel? Why didn’t she stay with her parents or friends? Why had she disappeared without a word? The diary told part of the truth, but James felt there was more. At last, he pulled up at the hotel she had mentioned. He rushed to the reception desk and asked for her room number. The receptionist gave it, and he ran to the elevator, his heart pressing against his chest with fear. When he reached her door, he knocked. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still silence. Something was wrong. He turned the handle. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Slowly, he pushed it open, and the sight before him almost froze his blood. Emily was lying on the floor, motionless. Around her were bottles—empty bottles of alcohol, scattered everywhere. The air was filled with the sour smell of drink. ...
The two days felt like two years for James. Every hour dragged slowly. He went to work but could not concentrate. At night, he lay awake, thinking deeply. The thought of the DNA result consumed him.
Finally, the appointed day came. Early in the morning, James dressed quickly and drove to the hospital. His hands gripped the steering wheel firmly as he went through the quiet Texas streets.
When he arrived, he went straight to the doctor’s office. The doctor greeted him politely and gestured for him to take a seat. James’s chest was tight, but his face remained calm.
“Mr. James,” the doctor began gently, “the DNA result is ready.”
“Tell me. What does it say? Is the child mine?" He asked.
The doctor opened the envelope, pulled out the paper, and read aloud. His voice was clear and steady.
“The test shows that you are not the biological father of this child.”
James closed his eyes for a brief moment. The words cut deep, but he did not shout. He was heartbroken, but he was not shocked. He had suspected this from the moment he saw the baby in the hospital on the delivery day.
The doctor continued, “I know this is painful news. I am sorry. But now at least you have the truth.”
James nodded slowly. “Yes. Thank you, doctor.”
The doctor handed him the sealed envelope. “You may keep this for your records.”
James took it without another word, stood up, and walked out of the office. His steps were measured, but his mind was strangely clear. He had the proof he needed.
On the drive home, memories flooded him — the years of waiting for a child, the joy when Emily first told him she was pregnant, the nights he prayed over her belly. All of it felt wasted now. Betrayal had replaced the happiness he once knew.
When he arrived home, Emily was in the living room, folding baby clothes. She looked up when he entered.
“You’re back early,” she said.
James didn’t answer immediately. He walked over, placed the envelope on the table, and looked at her directly.
“Open it,” he said firmly.
Emily frowned. “What is it?”
“Open it and read.”
Her hands hesitated, but she picked up the envelope. She tore it open slowly and pulled out the paper inside. Her eyes scanned the words, and her face changed. She froze, staring at the result.
It was a DNA test. The words were clear: Probability of paternity: 0%.
James’s voice broke the silence. “Explain, Emily. Explain how you ended up with another man’s child.”
Emily’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her breathing quickened. She dropped the paper onto the table as if it burned her fingers.
James stepped closer. “Say something! Was it worth it? After all our years together, after all our prayers and tears, this is what you give me?”
Emily shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. But she said nothing.
“Who is the father?” James demanded. “Tell me! Or will you keep silent even now?”
Emily’s shoulders trembled. Instead of answering, she turned and walked quickly into the bedroom. James followed, his voice loud.
“Emily, don’t you walk away from me! You owe me the truth!”
But Emily did not reply. She opened the wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. She threw them onto the bed, one after another, her movements sharp and hurried.
James stopped at the doorway, watching in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
Emily didn’t answer. She bent down, picked up the baby’s small clothes and diapers, and placed them in a bag.
James’s voice rose. “Emily! I am talking to you!”
Still, she kept packing. She moved like someone who had made up her mind completely.
Within minutes, the baby’s things were packed neatly into two bags. Emily lifted the bags and placed them near the door. She went back into the room, took her own suitcase, and began filling it with her clothes.
James stepped forward, blocking her path. “You are leaving? Is that your solution? To run away instead of explaining?”
Emily’s eyes glistened, but her mouth remained closed. She zipped her bag, lifted it, and walked past him.
“Emily! Stop!” James shouted, but she did not stop.
She carried her bags to the garage where her car was parked. James stood frozen in the living room, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Emily strapped the baby safely into the car seat, loaded the bags into the trunk, and walked back into the house one last time. She picked up the baby’s blanket from the sofa and clutched it tightly.
James’s voice shook with anger and pain. “So this is it? You won’t even tell me who the father is? You won’t even look me in the eye?”
Emily finally turned to him. Her lips trembled, but still no words came out. She opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it behind her.
James rushed to the window and watched as she climbed into her car. The engine started. Slowly, she drove out of the compound, the baby strapped safely in the back seat.
James stood there, staring until the car disappeared from view. His house felt empty, his heart heavier than ever before.
Emily was gone. She had left in silence, carrying the child that was never his.
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Finally, the appointed day came. Early in the morning, James dressed quickly and drove to the hospital. His hands gripped the steering wheel firmly as he went through the quiet Texas streets.
When he arrived, he went straight to the doctor’s office. The doctor greeted him politely and gestured for him to take a seat. James’s chest was tight, but his face remained calm.
“Mr. James,” the doctor began gently, “the DNA result is ready.”
“Tell me. What does it say? Is the child mine?" He asked.
The doctor opened the envelope, pulled out the paper, and read aloud. His voice was clear and steady.
“The test shows that you are not the biological father of this child.”
James closed his eyes for a brief moment. The words cut deep, but he did not shout. He was heartbroken, but he was not shocked. He had suspected this from the moment he saw the baby in the hospital on the delivery day.
The doctor continued, “I know this is painful news. I am sorry. But now at least you have the truth.”
James nodded slowly. “Yes. Thank you, doctor.”
The doctor handed him the sealed envelope. “You may keep this for your records.”
James took it without another word, stood up, and walked out of the office. His steps were measured, but his mind was strangely clear. He had the proof he needed.
On the drive home, memories flooded him — the years of waiting for a child, the joy when Emily first told him she was pregnant, the nights he prayed over her belly. All of it felt wasted now. Betrayal had replaced the happiness he once knew.
When he arrived home, Emily was in the living room, folding baby clothes. She looked up when he entered.
“You’re back early,” she said.
James didn’t answer immediately. He walked over, placed the envelope on the table, and looked at her directly.
“Open it,” he said firmly.
Emily frowned. “What is it?”
“Open it and read.”
Her hands hesitated, but she picked up the envelope. She tore it open slowly and pulled out the paper inside. Her eyes scanned the words, and her face changed. She froze, staring at the result.
It was a DNA test. The words were clear: Probability of paternity: 0%.
James’s voice broke the silence. “Explain, Emily. Explain how you ended up with another man’s child.”
Emily’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her breathing quickened. She dropped the paper onto the table as if it burned her fingers.
James stepped closer. “Say something! Was it worth it? After all our years together, after all our prayers and tears, this is what you give me?”
Emily shook her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. But she said nothing.
“Who is the father?” James demanded. “Tell me! Or will you keep silent even now?”
Emily’s shoulders trembled. Instead of answering, she turned and walked quickly into the bedroom. James followed, his voice loud.
“Emily, don’t you walk away from me! You owe me the truth!”
But Emily did not reply. She opened the wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. She threw them onto the bed, one after another, her movements sharp and hurried.
James stopped at the doorway, watching in disbelief. “What are you doing?”
Emily didn’t answer. She bent down, picked up the baby’s small clothes and diapers, and placed them in a bag.
James’s voice rose. “Emily! I am talking to you!”
Still, she kept packing. She moved like someone who had made up her mind completely.
Within minutes, the baby’s things were packed neatly into two bags. Emily lifted the bags and placed them near the door. She went back into the room, took her own suitcase, and began filling it with her clothes.
James stepped forward, blocking her path. “You are leaving? Is that your solution? To run away instead of explaining?”
Emily’s eyes glistened, but her mouth remained closed. She zipped her bag, lifted it, and walked past him.
“Emily! Stop!” James shouted, but she did not stop.
Emily strapped the baby safely into the car seat, loaded the bags into the trunk, and walked back into the house one last time. She picked up the baby’s blanket from the sofa and clutched it tightly.
James’s voice shook with anger and pain. “So this is it? You won’t even tell me who the father is? You won’t even look me in the eye?”
Emily finally turned to him. Her lips trembled, but still no words came out. She opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it behind her.
James rushed to the window and watched as she climbed into her car. The engine started. Slowly, she drove out of the compound, the baby strapped safely in the back seat.
James stood there, staring until the car disappeared from view. His house felt empty, his heart heavier than ever before.
Emily was gone. She had left in silence, carrying the child that was never his.
IF YOU LIKE THIS EPISODE, PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT
Does it mean James is infertile.
ReplyDeleteNext episode please 🙏