Chapter 218 The DNA Result

Chapter 218 The DNA Result


Miranda’s POV

The hospital discharge papers felt heavy in my hands. I signed them with shaky fingers, using the last of my savings to pay the bill. It hurt to see my money go down so low, but I had to leave. I couldn’t stay there any longer. The nurses were nice, but I could feel their pity every time they checked on me and the baby.

Paul was waiting outside when I left the hospital. He didn’t say much, just took the small bag from me and helped me into his car. The baby was quiet in my arms, wrapped in a hospital blanket. I kept looking down at him, still trying to believe he was real and that he was mine.

When we got to my apartment, Paul stayed. He cooked simple meals, cleaned up without being asked, and helped carry the baby when my arms got too tired. I was thankful, but I also felt like a burden. Every time he smiled or made a joke, I wanted to cry.

“You don’t have to do all this,” I told him one evening as he held the baby.

Paul looked at me and smiled softly. “I know. But I want to. You’re not alone in this, Miranda. Even if it feels like it right now.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just nodded and looked away.

A few days later, the results came. I was on the couch, feeding the baby, when there was a knock at the door. Paul answered and came back with a brown envelope. He put it on the table without saying anything, but I could see the worry in his eyes.

I waited until the baby fell asleep before I opened it. My hands were cold as I pulled out the paper. I read slowly until I got to the line that mattered most.

Probability of Paternity: 99.9%
Julian Anderson is the biological father.

I stared at the paper for a long time. I didn’t cry or smile. I just felt numb, like someone had poured cold water over me. I had spent weeks wondering and now I had an answer. It was Julian’s child.

I picked up my phone with shaking fingers and called him. It rang for a long time before he answered.

“Miranda,” he said, sounding tired and distant. “What do you want?”

I swallowed hard. “I got the results. The DNA test. It’s yours, Julian. The baby is yours.”

There was silence. Then Julian let out a short, bitter laugh. “You’re joking, right? This has to be some kind of sick joke.”

“I’m not joking,” I replied, my voice cracking. “It’s confirmed. You’re the father.”

Julian was quiet again. When he spoke, his voice was cold. “Stop calling me, Miranda. I don’t want to be part of this. I have enough problems without adding a baby.”

I felt like I had been punched in the chest. “Julian, please,” I begged. “At least come see him. Just once. He’s your son. You don’t have to do anything else, but please… just come see him.”

“No,” he snapped. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you. I don’t want a child. My life is already falling apart. I don’t need this.”

Tears slipped down my cheeks. “You can’t just ignore this. This baby is yours. He didn’t ask to be born into this mess. At least be a man and take responsibility.”

Julian laughed again, but it wasn’t funny. “Responsibility? You think I owe you something? We had one night together while we were both drunk. This is your problem, not mine.”

I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from sobbing. “Please,” I whispered. “Just see him once. That’s all I’m asking.”

“No,” Julian said firmly. “Don’t call me again. I mean it.”

Then he hung up. The line went dead. I sat on the couch, staring at my phone as the tears finally came. They poured down my face. I curled into myself, one arm wrapped around my empty stomach.

Paul must have heard me because he came out of the kitchen and sat beside me without saying a word. He gently took the phone from my hand and placed it on the table. Then he pulled me into his arms.

I cried into his chest, letting out all the pain and fear I had been holding in. “He doesn’t want him,” I sobbed. “He doesn’t want our baby. He doesn’t want me.”

Paul rubbed my back slowly, his voice calm. “I’m here. You’re not alone. We’ll figure this out. One day at a time.”

I cried harder. I didn’t know how I was going to raise a child when the father wanted nothing to do with us. I didn’t know how to face the future when everything felt broken.

But in that moment, with Paul holding me and the baby sleeping in the next room, I let myself cry. Because tomorrow, I would have to be strong again. And I wasn’t sure how much strength I had left.