My husband’s mother never liked me, but after our baby was born, things took a turn I never saw coming. When my loyalty was questioned, I agreed to the DNA test… but not before leveling the playing field.
I’ve been loyal to Ben since day one, through two layoffs and helping him build his business from the ground up. I also put up with his mother, Karen, treating me like a stranger every time we showed up at a family event.
An elegant older woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
He never said it outright, but I knew he didn’t think I was good enough.
I didn’t come from a “professional” family. I didn’t grow up around country clubs and mimosa-fountain lunches.
When I told Ben I wanted to elope instead of having a huge wedding, she practically freaked out. I remember the night I brought it up, we were sitting on the bed, legs tangled together, just talking about the future, and he seemed to like the idea.
A couple talking in bed | Source: Unsplash
But when Karen found out we’d actually done it, she made it clear that it was one more reason why I didn’t belong in the family.
Still, I assumed that when I gave birth to our son, things would change. My son came out with his father’s hair, dark eyes, and the same cleft chin. I thought that now, finally, I would feel part of the family.
But instead, they surprised me.
Karen visited the house once after I gave birth. She held him in her arms in the living room, smiled, and cooed like the perfect grandmother. Then she disappeared. Weeks went by. No calls, no messages, no asking how we were or if I needed help.
A baby looking up | Source: Unsplash
I started to feel that old pain again, that silent loneliness in your own home when you know someone out there is silently judging you.
One night, when we had already put our son to bed in his crib and the house was quiet, I curled up on the couch with a book.
Ben walked down the aisle, sat down next to me, and I immediately sensed something wasn’t right.
He didn’t say anything immediately. He just looked at the ground, then at his hands.
Finally, he began to speak.
“Baby… my mom thinks we should take a DNA test… Actually, Dad thinks it’s a good idea too.”
A man with a worried face | Source: Midjourney
I waited for him to smile. For him to say, “Just kidding,” or “Can you believe they said that?” But he didn’t.
Instead, he explained that Karen had finally called and asked him to do it, just in case. She and her husband had been reading about women who trick men into raising other men’s babies.
When he finished explaining it to me, I asked him in a very low voice, “Do you think we should do it?”
He didn’t look me in the eye. He just rubbed his palms together and said, “It wouldn’t hurt to clear things up, would it? It would shut them up, and we’d have proof.”
A man on a couch, worried | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. But something inside me broke.
“Sure,” I said, putting the book down on the coffee table. “Let’s do it. But only on one condition.”
He blinked and looked up. “What?”
“Test your mother, too,” I told him. “Test your father and you for DNA.”
“Why?” he said, leaning back, his eyebrows knitted.
I stood up and paced around the room, crossing my arms.
A woman in a living room, looking disgusted | Source: Midjourney
“If your mother can throw around accusations of cheating based on nothing, then I’d like to know if she’s so sure of her own past,” I said. “Fair’s fair, isn’t it?”
Ben didn’t say anything at first. He just stared at me. But then he nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he said, frowning. “You’re right. I will. But first, let’s keep it between us.”
And that was all.
Getting our son tested was easy. We made a quick appointment at a local lab, and I held him while they swabbed his cheek. He was too busy trying to eat the technician’s glove to notice anything unusual.
A doctor handling cotton swabs for testing | Source: Unsplash
Obtaining Ben’s father’s DNA was more complicated. We had to get a little creative.
We invited her parents over for dinner a week later. Karen brought her usual cake and left it on the counter.
Ben’s father settled into the living room, talking about his golf game as if everything was perfectly normal.
A man on a couch, smiling | Source: Midjourney
At the end of the evening, Ben handed his father a toothbrush from a line of wellness products he said he was exploring for the business.
“Hey, Dad, will you try this for me?” she said. “I’m thinking of selling it through the new business. It’s more environmentally friendly.”
His father shrugged, took him into the bathroom, and brushed his teeth without a second thought.
When he came back out, he said the toothbrush was no different from his own. Ben looked at me and told his dad to leave it in the bathroom.
A toothbrush resting on a counter | Source: Unsplash
We ship samples the next day.
Mission accomplished.
A few weeks later, our son turned one. The birthday party was small, with just immediate family. I decorated the living room with blue and silver balloons.
The cake was on the dining room table, and we played a few games until it was time to cut the cake. We all sang songs and took turns trying to get my baby to blow out the candle.
He got tired right after eating dessert, so I put him to bed.
A cupcake with a candle in front of a baby | Source: Unsplash
When I came back, everyone was chatting casually, so I nodded to Ben and took an envelope out of the kitchen drawer.
“We have a little surprise for everyone,” I said with a smile.
All eyes turned to me.
“Since some of you had doubts,” I said, looking directly at Karen, “Ben and I have decided to have a DNA test done for our son.”
Everyone with any common sense seemed confused, as it was obvious that my son looked just like Ben.
But Karen was sitting on the couch with a smug little smile.
A woman with a grimace | Source: Midjourney
She must have been sure I was a horrible woman.
So I opened the envelope and took out the documents. “And guess what?” I said. “He’s 100% Ben’s son.”
Karen’s little smile faded.
“But that’s not all,” Ben chimed in, getting up from the couch and pulling another envelope out of his desk drawer.
“Since we were going to do DNA testing anyway,” I explained, “we thought we might as well check to see if Ben is related to his father.”
A woman standing in a living room, smiling | Source: Midjourney
Karen’s face went ghostly white, and her mouth fell open. “What?!” she exclaimed after a second.
“It seemed fair,” I said. “Under the circumstances, right?”
The room fell silent when Ben opened the second envelope. We hadn’t even glanced at it. But my husband stared at the paper much longer than I expected, blinking a lot.
“Dad…” he said, swallowing. “Turns out I’m not your son.”
Screams echoed throughout the room. Karen stood up so quickly that her chair nearly fell over.
“YOU HAD NO RIGHT…” he yelled, approaching me.
An angry woman pointing | Source: Midjourney
But Ben stepped between us with a raised hand to stop her.
“You accused my wife of being unfaithful, Mom,” he snapped. “Turns out you were projecting your own past.”
Karen looked around and saw everyone looking at her, then she burst into tears and slumped back in her chair, sobbing.
That was the only sound for a minute, until Ben’s father slowly stood up. He didn’t say a word. He just walked over to the table, grabbed his keys, and left.
A man’s hand holding a car key | Source: Unsplash
***
Karen called for days. Morning, afternoon, sometimes late at night. We didn’t answer. She didn’t want to hear the crying, the excuses, or any version of the truth she was willing to spin.
But silence wasn’t easy either. And now that the DNA issue was over, the real problem arose: our marriage.
Not only had Karen hurt me. Ben had also agreed to her request for the test.
A woman with a look of disgust | Source: Midjourney
He hadn’t stood up to her. He hadn’t said, “No, Mom, don’t be ridiculous.” That part was the one that stung the most.
Still, she felt terrible about it. She’d apologized more times than she could count, and not in that rushed, guilty way, but as if she meant it.
“I don’t know what I was thinking,” he told me one night. “I just… didn’t want to face her. I didn’t want to believe she would say that for no reason. I was stupid.”
A worried man at the table | Source: Midjourney
Although I know others would have walked away from this relationship, I decided to seek therapy. For several weeks, we sat in a small office with beige walls and a box of tissues on the table between us, talking through the difficult things.
“It’s not just the DNA test,” I told him during one session. “It’s the lack of trust. You didn’t believe me, even though I’d never given you reason to doubt me.”
She nodded, her eyes moist. “I know. I messed up. I’ll never doubt you again.”
So far, he’s kept his promise. I have to admit that.
A woman smiling slightly | Source: Midjourney
It didn’t happen overnight, but over time we got over it. He listened to me more. He stood up for me. He shut down the comments from his mother’s family, who were trying to get us to talk to her.
In the end, I forgave him completely, not because I had forgotten, but because he acknowledged his mistakes.
But my relationship with Karen is almost completely broken. I tried listening to a voicemail, and it was full of vague excuses and blame.
An angry-looking woman on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I deleted it before it was finished, and we’ve blocked her ever since.
Ben’s father filed for divorce shortly after the party. I don’t know what they said, but he also stopped talking to Karen.
Without her, he started visiting us more, and nothing has changed between him and Ben. Fortunately.
Meanwhile, our son continued to grow, laughing, babbling, and learning to walk while holding onto the edge of the table.
And the DNA papers, both results, are still in a drawer somewhere. We haven’t looked at them again.
Documents that say
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not the author’s intention.
The author and publisher do not guarantee the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters, and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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