He had erased himself from their lives—and there was no way back now.
Sophie had been bustling in the kitchen since dawn, frying Edward’s favorite potato pancakes, hoping to cheer him after a grueling day at work. The front door slammed—moments later, he stepped into the kitchen.
“Hello. Fancy supper?” she asked, trying to catch his eye.
Edward sat at the table without a word. Sophie noticed—he wasn’t himself. Distant, brooding. She asked again what was wrong, and his reply cut through the air like a blade:
“I want a test. A paternity test.”
At first, she thought she’d misheard. Then—as if scalded. How dare he? After everything they’d been through? Her Eddie, her rock, her love? And now—this.
“Do you even hear yourself?” Her voice trembled.
“What’s the problem? Scared? Means you’ve got something to hide, then. If you didn’t cheat, why refuse?”
Sophie burned with fury:
“Take that test—you’ll regret it later!”
“Aha! Knew it!”
…They’d been together since they were seventeen. Married a year later. Sophie’s parents had raised her strictly—no intimacy before marriage. Edward had admired that. His family, though, was cut from different cloth.
His brother, Simon, was dodging child support. And Edward’s mother, a veteran of multiple failed marriages, had always warned him he’d end up disappointed. After the wedding, she made no secret of her disdain for Sophie.
When little Emma was born, Edward had been radiant. His mother visited the hospital, glanced at the baby, and said flatly:
“Not one of ours.” And left.
Didn’t even hold her granddaughter. Sophie brushed it off. A mistake.
Edward grew distant. More sullen, short-tempered. Refused to help with the baby—too tired, too busy. The house filled with suffocating silence.
When Sophie finally confronted him, he spat the same accusation:
“I want that test. She doesn’t look like me. Or you. Who’s her real father?”
This wasn’t suspicion—it was an indictment.
“I’ve done nothing to deserve this,” Sophie said. “I won’t agree to any test.”
“Then you’re guilty! Mum was right all along!”
He screamed, paced, demanded confessions. Sophie shook with hurt and horror. Everything she believed in was crumbling before her.
She called her parents.
“Come get us. I can’t stay here.”
Within the hour, her parents arrived. Packed their things, took Sophie and Emma. The drive home was silent. At last, her father spoke:
“Never liked that lot. To insult you like this—unforgivable. No excuse.”
Her mother agreed:
“If a husband demands proof of loyalty, he’s no husband. He’s a traitor. We’re with you, love. You’re not alone.”
Sophie had already made up her mind. His mother had poisoned him, but he chose to believe her. Chose doubt over trust.
Then Edward came crawling back. Begged forgiveness. Claimed Sophie’s reluctance *proved* his suspicions.
“You’ve got something to hide, don’t you?”
Friends tried to reason with him. He wouldn’t listen. A test was *reasonable*, he insisted. Her refusal? “Proof.”
At first, Sophie wanted to vanish. Let him renounce fatherhood. Easier without the shame.
Then she changed her mind. Her friends urged her—*fight back.* Filed for court. He wanted the test? Fine. But she countersued—to strip his rights. For his conduct. She was ready: records, witnesses, everything.
His mother crowed: “The truth’s coming out!” Too soon.
The test confirmed it—Emma was his. Then came the final blow—the court granted Sophie’s countersuit. Edward lost not just his wife, but legally, his child.
“This what you wanted, Eddie? Mum’s happy now? Enjoy it. No wife. No daughter. I never want to hear from you again. Just like your brother. Spitting image.”
Sophie left the courthouse, head high. She’d won.
Edward sat alone on a bench outside, head in hands. Only now did he understand what he’d done. Only now did he realize what he’d lost.
Too late. Far too late.