I needed a minute away from everything. Away from the chaos, away from the confusion, away from the overwhelming flood of emotions that I couldn’t even begin to process. My heart pounded in my chest as I walked down the hallway, my steps heavy with uncertainty. I could still hear Elodie’s voice echoing in my mind—her raw, desperate plea for me to believe her.
But how could I believe her when everything around me seemed to suggest otherwise?
I stepped outside, taking in a deep breath, but the air didn’t seem to help. It felt suffocating. I needed more than just oxygen; I needed answers. I needed clarity. I needed the truth, and I had no idea where to find it.
As I stood there, lost in my thoughts, a voice snapped me back to reality.
“Finnick.”
I turned and saw my mother standing near the end of the hallway, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her eyes were narrowed, her expression hard and unyielding.
“Mom,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though it came out flat, emotionless. I didn’t have the energy for whatever speech she was about to give me.
She wasted no time. “Finnick, you can’t stay with her after this. You saw the baby. That’s not your child. It can’t be.”
I could feel the weight of her words pressing down on me, pushing all the air from my lungs. I wanted to deny it, to shout at her that she was wrong, but the words wouldn’t come. I couldn’t. Because somewhere deep inside, I wasn’t so sure anymore.
“She is my child, I’m sure of it,” I said, but my voice faltered, uncertainty creeping in like a shadow. “I—”
She stepped closer, her eyes narrowing further. “Don’t be naive, Finnick. Elodie has betrayed you. You need to wake up and accept the truth. I know you love her, but you can’t ignore what’s right in front of you.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Betrayed. I wanted to fight back, to tell her she was wrong, but the truth was… I didn’t know what to believe anymore.
“Mom, I… I don’t know,” I admitted, my voice breaking slightly. “I don’t know what to think right now.”
She softened just a little, reaching out to touch my arm. “Finnick, you need to leave her. You deserve better than this. She’s clearly not who you thought she was.”
I pulled away, shaking my head. “No, you don’t get it. This isn’t just about me. That’s my wife and my daughter in there. I can’t just walk away.”
My mother’s face turned pitying, but her eyes remained cold. “Finnick, sometimes you have to make hard decisions. For your own good. You deserve the truth.”
I turned away from her, feeling the weight of her words pressing on me. “Yeah, I do deserve the truth. But I’m not making any decisions until I have it. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. And whatever I find, I’ll deal with it. But I’m not giving up on Elodie.”
Her sigh echoed down the hallway, but she didn’t push any further. “Just be careful, Finnick. Don’t let your love for her blind you to reality.”
I walked away without a word, feeling the sting of her doubts burrowing deep into my chest. The truth, whatever it was, would have to come from somewhere else. I needed to know for sure.
I made my way to the genetics department of the hospital. My heart felt like a stone in my chest, each step heavier than the last. I had to find out the truth. I had to know for certain what was going on, because if this was a mistake, I couldn’t let it break me, let it tear apart my family.
The doctor at the desk explained the process of the DNA test in a calm, detached manner. To her, it was routine. To me, it was a lifeline. I sat there, almost numb, as they took my blood and swabbed the inside of my cheek. The anticipation gnawed at me, eating away at my insides. I needed answers.
I paced back and forth in the waiting room, every thought a tangled mess of questions. Elodie’s face flashed in my mind, her eyes pleading with me, begging me to trust her. How could I have doubted her?
And then the baby’s face—dark skin, soft curls, but with my eyes. My dimple. It was impossible to deny the resemblance. I had to trust that, didn’t I? But then there was the fear, the nagging voice in my head telling me to prepare for the worst.
The hours dragged on, each minute stretching into eternity. Finally, the phone rang. The noise was deafening, cutting through the silence like a knife.
“Finnick, we have your results,” the doctor’s voice came through the line, clear but distant.
I could barely hear her over the pounding of my heart. My pulse was deafening in my ears.
“Yes?” I asked, barely able to breathe.
“The test confirms,” she said, the words sharp and clinical, “that you are the biological father.”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Relief flooded through me, washing away some of the tension. But it was quickly replaced by guilt. How could I have doubted her? How could I have let doubt take root in my mind, poisoning the most important moment of our lives?
The doctor continued, explaining about recessive genes and the possibility of traits from generations past showing up unexpectedly. It made sense scientifically, but it didn’t erase the shame I felt for even questioning Elodie.
I walked back to the room, the test results in my hand like an anchor. I wasn’t sure what I was going to say, but I had to face her. I had to fix this.
When I opened the door, Elodie looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen from crying, but there was a flicker of hope in them—hope I didn’t deserve. I crossed the room in two long strides and handed her the paper.
Her hands trembled as she read it, her eyes scanning the words with disbelief. And then, she broke down. Tears of relief streamed down her face.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry I doubted you.”
She shook her head, pulling me close, our daughter nestled between us. “We’ll be okay now,” she whispered, her voice soft and forgiving.
And as I held them both, I made a silent vow: No matter what came our way, no matter how many people doubted us, I would protect my family. This was my wife. This was my child. And I would never let doubt, judgment, or anyone else come between us again.
No matter what.