The nurse quickly carried the babies away while the doctors continued stitching me up, but the damage had already been done.
Arthur stood frozen near the wall, staring at our son like the child had personally betrayed him.
“This makes no sense,” he whispered.
I could barely breathe from the pain and anesthesia, but I forced myself to look at him.
“You’re disgusting.”
My mother-in-law stepped closer to the incubator where the boy had been placed.
“Look at his eyes,” she muttered. “No one in our family has eyes like that.”
The doctor finally snapped.
“Sir, ma’am, this is neither the time nor the place. Your wife just underwent major surgery.”
But Arthur was already spiraling.
“I want a DNA test immediately.”
I felt something inside me crack.
Not because he doubted me.
Because somewhere deep down, I realized he already knew something I didn’t.
—
The twins were placed in the NICU for observation because they were premature. I wasn’t allowed to see them until the next morning.
Arthur barely spoke to me.
He spent most of the night pacing the hallway while his mother whispered into his ear like poison dripping into water.
Every time I closed my eyes, I kept hearing him say:
“That child cannot be mine.”
Not children.
Child.
Only the boy.
Why?
The next afternoon, a nurse wheeled me into the NICU.
My daughter slept peacefully, tiny fingers curled against her cheek.
My son was awake.
The moment I looked into his pale gray eyes, my heart stopped.
I had seen those eyes before.
Not in another man.
In Arthur’s father.
Old family photos suddenly flashed through my mind—the portraits hanging in his mother’s hallway. Arthur’s late father had the exact same eyes.
Cold gray.
Almost silver.
Arthur had once told me he hated them because people constantly compared him to his father.
And suddenly, I understood why Arthur looked terrified.
Not suspicious.
Terrified.
—
Three days later, the DNA results arrived.
Arthur insisted on opening them in front of everyone.
His mother.
The doctor.
Two nurses.
Even his older sister, Naomi, who had flown in that morning.
He unfolded the papers with trembling hands.
Then his face lost all color.
The doctor looked confused.
“Well… both children are biologically yours.”
Silence.
I let out a shaky breath of relief, but Arthur didn’t look relieved at all.
He looked ruined.
Mrs. Rachel grabbed the papers from him.
“What is this?”
The doctor adjusted his glasses.
“There’s something unusual here.”
He hesitated before continuing.
