Chapter 93 93
Elliot’s POV
The three days that followed were the most intense and beautiful of my life—and also the most fragile, though I tried not to admit it. I didn’t leave their side for a single moment. The hospital room became my entire world, a space where time seemed to have stopped and nothing outside it mattered.
I spent hours sitting in the chair, holding Caleb or simply watching them, trying to etch every detail into my memory, as if I feared that at any moment it could all vanish.
The exhaustion didn’t matter. I slept in fits, in uncomfortable positions, but every time Caleb cried, my body reacted before I could think. I was up instantly, even before Kate opened her eyes, lifting him carefully—still clumsy sometimes, but growing more confident each time. His cry was loud, demanding, and yet the moment I held him against my chest, rocking him with slow, repetitive movements, something in him settled. I spoke to him in a low voice, without thinking too much about the words, just letting them come. Telling him I was here, that nothing was wrong, that everything was okay. And in those moments, when his small body relaxed against mine, I felt something I had never felt before. Something that had nothing to do with desire, or obsession, or control.
I no longer had to think to change his diaper or settle him in my arms. My hands had learned quickly, as if they had been waiting their whole life for this. Afterward I handed him to Kate, always carefully, always with that strange tightness in my chest when I brought him close to her. Watching him nurse, watching how he latched onto her body with such pure, basic need, left me speechless. I stood beside her, watching in silence, unable to look away. There was something in that image that completely undid me. Something that made me feel I was seeing something that didn’t entirely belong to me—and yet I couldn’t stop considering it mine.
Kate didn’t talk much, but she didn’t push me away either. And for me, that was enough. Sometimes, when Caleb slept, she would lift her gaze to me and watch in silence. There was no reproach in her eyes, no promises either. Just exhaustion… and something more, something that kept me right where I was, unmoving, as if any gesture might shatter the delicate balance we had built without ever saying it aloud.
I never mentioned the test.
Those days had been too perfect. Too complete. For the first time in my life I had felt I held something real in my hands—something that didn’t depend on money, power, or my last name. Something that simply… was. And I was terrified that one single word on paper could undo it all.
But the test existed.
The blood had been drawn the same day she said. I knew the results were ready. I’d known since the night before. And that certainty had begun to grow inside me like constant pressure.
That morning, when Kate fell asleep after feeding Caleb, I approached the bed carefully. I kissed her forehead slowly, without waking her, and stayed a few seconds longer just watching her. Then I looked at the baby, sleeping peacefully in the crib, oblivious to everything about to change.
I walked to the lab without overthinking it, as if my feet already knew the way. They handed me the envelope at reception without questions. White. Simple. My name handwritten on it. I held it between my fingers and felt my pulse race.
I couldn’t open it there.
Not in that moment.
I needed air.
I kept walking until I found a nearby park. I sat on a secluded bench under a tree, away from people. The envelope rested on my lap, unopened. I stared at it for what must have been several minutes, though time blurred. My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. My hands were damp, my body tense, as if I stood on the edge of something I couldn’t control.
Because it wasn’t just a result.
It was everything.
If he wasn’t mine… everything I had lived in those three days didn’t belong to me. Every time I held him, every time I soothed his cries, every time I felt that bond growing inside me… I would have no right to any of it. I would go back to being what I had always been in Kate’s life. The mistake. The man she desired but never chose. The one left outside when things became real.
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the air didn’t seem enough.
I closed my eyes and saw him.
I saw his face, still wrinkled, his mouth searching for food, his tiny hands gripping my finger with a strength that didn’t seem possible for a newborn. I saw how he calmed when I held him to my chest, how his breathing changed when I rocked him. I saw Kate watching me in silence, not pushing me away, letting me stay.
That was what was at stake.
I opened the envelope.
The sound of the paper tearing seemed too loud in the park’s silence. I pulled out the sheet carefully, as if hesitant, and lowered my gaze.
I read.
I stopped.
I read again.
“Probability of paternity: 99.9998%.”
My hands began to shake uncontrollably. The paper crumpled slightly between my fingers as I reread the figure, over and over, as if I needed to make sure I wasn’t misinterpreting it. But it didn’t change.
He was mine.
The air left my lungs in a sob I couldn’t hold back. I brought my hand to my mouth on pure instinct, trying to stifle it, but it didn’t work. Tears started falling without me being able to stop them, sliding down my cheeks, dropping onto the paper.
He was mine.
My son.
My legs felt weak, as if they might give out at any second. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, breathing unevenly, trying to process it all. The tension I had carried inside those days shattered all at once, giving way to something much bigger, much more intense.
It wasn’t just happiness.
It was relief.
It was certainty.
It was possession.
I stood up from the bench without realizing it, the envelope still in my hand, and took a few short, disordered steps, as if I needed to move to keep from overflowing. I ran a hand over my face, trying to wipe the tears, but they kept coming.
He was mine.
There was no doubt.
Caleb was mine.
And nothing—absolutely nothing—was going to separate me from that.
I sat back down, breathing deeply, trying to regain control little by little, but with a completely different certainty settled in my chest.
Because now there was no fear.
Now there was only one thing.
To return.
But… I couldn’t force Kate to leave Andrew, nor did I want to subject her to that stress so soon after giving birth.
I couldn’t let myself be carried away by this euphoria. I had to think clearly, figure out what to do now.