The revelation that Byron’s mother makes during the birthday party for his daughter, who is seven years old, causes the whole celebration to be derailed and threatens to destroy all that Byron has constructed. As Byron’s familial relationships get more complicated and his allegiances are put to the test, he must determine if love or biology is the true basis for a parent.

We had just about reached the midway point of singing “Happy Birthday” when my mother cleared her throat, making a loud and sharp sound like a twig that had been broken. Despite the fact that she was still smiling in front of her cake, Tatum blinked at her while sporting icing on the tip of her nose.

It was almost as if she was my wife’s twin. She had the same delicate cheeks that flushed pink in the light, the same dimples, and the same black hair that was wavy and dark like Chloe’s.

Furthermore, Tatum cocked her head in the same direction.

I was gently swaying Carter to the beat of the music as I was holding him on my hip. The cowlick, my eyes, and my hair were all in his possession. My ownership of him was never called into doubt by anybody.

However, many never stopped questioning Tatum. This is mostly my mother, Catherine.

In the present moment, my mother used a spoon to tap her wineglass. One of those piercing, intentional pings that cut through the laughing like a dagger, it was one of those pings. Everybody fell into silence.

The excitement and cake had caused Tatum’s cheeks to become pink, and she continued to smile. Her hands were folded in front of her as she stood there, waiting for the next surprise. She seemed to be so proud of herself as she stood there wearing her birthday crown.

Catherine remarked, “I have something important to share,” while maintaining her upright posture. She had a clear voice that was a touch too sharp at times. “Especially with Byron.”

With me, Chloe froze in place. It was as if someone had switched off a light switch when her grin faded. Despite the fact that my hand was already clenched into a fist, she reached for it in an automated manner.

I told her, “Mom,” as I moved Carter to a higher position on my hip. “Not at this time. There is no place for this. Later, once my kid has finished eating a piece of her birthday cake, we may have a conversation.

Even a single look was all she gave me. She just finished clearing her throat once again.

“When Byron and Chloe were forced to leave town a few months ago, the children stayed with me,” I said. Concerns that I had that I believed needed to be addressed were what I had. As a result, I made the most of the occasion to acquire some answers. A few genuine responses.”

The lips of Chloe opened, but she did not utter a single syllable. She looked at me with eyes that were wide, terrified, and begging. In an effort to anchor her, I gave her a tiny shake of the head.

Without a doubt, however, my mother was not finished. She went inside her purse and brought out a folded piece of paper, which she then displayed over her head as if it were a trophy.

“A DNA test was sent in by me. Due to the fact that I am the grandma, or was meant to be the grandmother, I utilized my own sample. And it was compared to Tatum’s in my opinion. Using her brushes, I removed a single strand of her hair. It was sufficient for the laboratory. And, of course, the findings came back confirming precisely what I had thought all along.

A hush fell over the room. Simply taking a few deep breaths and uncomfortably looking at each other, everyone remained silent.

As she turned her head to look at her grandma, Tatum’s face scrunched up in a way that suggested she was a little perplexed. Then she turned her gaze onto me, her brows furrowed in concentration.

She said in a hushed voice, “Daddy?”

“Catherine,” Chloe continued, her voice trembling and becoming more loud. It’s enough that you’ve stated. Now is the time to cease doing this.”

She had not, however. Not at this time.

What my mother said to me was, “Byron, she is not your biological child.” Tatum is not your daughter, and I am at a loss to comprehend how Chloe has been able to deceive you for such a long period. Now, however, we are all aware of the reality.

My gaze was drawn to my daughter. Her eyes blinked once, and then once more. She made a little protrusion with her lips, but nothing came out. Without her even being aware that she was sobbing, I saw the beginnings of trembling in her shoulders.

Because of the pressure, her little hands were balled up into fists at her sides, and her knuckles were thin and pallid. Her bottom lip trembled and her chin was pulled in as if she was attempting to keep the tears from falling out, but they were already falling out one by one.

I carefully lowered Carter onto his feet and hurried to her, stooping down so that we could look each other in the eye, but it was too late for me to reach her. The dam had snapped in two. Tatum’s screams were quiet and hiccuping, the kind that shake a kid so hard that you fear their small bodies could collapse in on itself. Tatum was weeping.

I looked at my mother and exclaimed, “You had no right to do this,” as I stared at her. This is inexcusable behavior on your part. Do you mean during her birthday party?

“She had a desire to be aware. You were in need of this information,” my mother said, as if she were presenting us with a present. “Everyone needed to know that Chloe has been lying for years.”

Tatum was dragged into my arms by me. It seemed as if my daughter was scared that I may disappear if she did not come, as she came readily and immediately. She placed her arms around my neck in such a way that it was nearly painful. Carter, who was standing behind me, had also begun bawling his eyes out. He was terrified by the tension, by the manner that his sister had gone from being happy to being shattered in a matter of minutes.

I stated this while rising up, with one hand still wrapped over Tatum’s back in a protective manner. “You are not doing this to her,” I added. I am not here. By no means.”

The words “She’s not even your child!” were yelled out by my mother. “And why aren’t you mad at Chloe?”

“Get out,” I stated in a straightforward manner.

The lips of my mother opened, and for a little period, she seemed to be in a state of shock. Next, she let out a single chuckle. Chilly.

“Excuse me, Byron?”

By the time I reached my full height, Tatum was still shaking in my arms. “You heard me,” I muttered as I stood up there. “Get the hell out of my house.”

“For telling the truth?”

The answer is no, since you humiliated a youngster on her birthday. On top of that, for attempting to tear this family apart. Also, Mom, for coming to the conclusion that blood is more important than love ever will be.

With the expectation that someone would support her, she glanced around the room. Not a single person did. At that moment, I shifted my attention to Chloe, who was holding Carter in her arms and massaging his back with circles. Although her eyes were watery, she did not seem to be crying.

Not at this time.

Catherine walked away in a huff. Because of the force with which the door was slammed, the cake knife was rattling on the table.

I leaned in closer to Tatum and said, “Hey,” as I held her. It makes no difference at all. There is not a single word that grandmother uttered that may alter things.

A second time, she hiccuped and sniffled.

Tatum, you are only mine. At all times. My possession has always been you.

Rather of making a sound, she just nodded her head on my shoulder. Yes, it was plenty for me.

In the words of Chloe, “Feel free to help yourselves to food,” she urged our visitors. “But this party is over…”

Later on that evening, when the cake had become mushy as a result of being left out for an excessive amount of time, the decorations had become saggy, and we had put the children to bed, Chloe and I sat on the edge of the sofa in complete quiet.

I am very sorry,” she said in a low voice.

“Don’t,” I murmured in a soft voice. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

But she… she made it seem like… Oh, Byron,” the speaker said. “I am at a loss for words,” she moaned for a while.

It seems clear to me what she was trying to convey. And it makes no difference to me what she thinks,” I said.

“Do you…” The sound of Chloe’s voice was imperceptible. Are you interested in discussing it at this time? Is it the whole… truth?

I just gave a single, slow nod.

“All right, Chloe. I believe that the moment has come.”

Despite the fact that I have had my doubts for years, nothing has changed, not even for a second after that. I was the parent of Tatum.

When we were both in college, Chloe and I became friends. The two of us were young, naive, and impetuous, and we were both certain that our particular brand of love could triumph over any obstacle. It had been six months since we had moved in together.

We had been together for eight months when we decided to get engaged. Two years later, we had a severe accident.

Three months passed during our breakup. During that moment, we both moved on in transitory ways that were chaotic and individual. After that, we were able to find our way back to each other, just as we had always intended to do.

After a period of two months, Chloe discovered that she was expecting a child.

Because of the proximity of the dates, it was never possible to be absolutely positive. At the very beginning, Chloe shared all of her information with me. I declined her invitation to take a DNA test, and I informed her that I was not interested in having one. It was not because I was terrified of the truth; rather, it was because I already understood what was most important, and it was not anything related to biology.

“You are my love. I am in awe of the life that we will create together. And Chloe, I want this kid all to me,” I added. “No matter what… this baby will be ours.”

When I repeated, “She’s mine,” I did it with the peaceful conviction of a guy who had experienced every aspect of parenthood from the time Tatum first opened her eyes to the present day.

Chloe leant in close and said, “I know,” as her hand found mine. It is clear that you have never treated her in any other manner. And… Mr. Byron, the individual who… the other individual? The man is not a decent person. Due to the fact that he had a lot of undesirable behaviors, I would have never wanted to bring up Tatum with him.

I meant it when I said, “You don’t have to explain,” and meant it. “Tatum is mine now. With that, we are done. This is not a family in which my mother has the authority to select who belongs here.

When it comes to poisoning this, she is going to keep trying, Byron. You are aware that she will.”

“She already has, love,” I said with a nod.

After a day had passed, I was in the process of preparing stir-fried noodles for supper when I received a notice from Facebook on my laptop.

Specifically, it was for a public post that my mother had published.

She had it shown on her profile, where it could be seen by anybody, including her family, friends, colleagues, and even complete strangers. Despite her best efforts, she had not made any attempt to conceal it.

“My son is really parenting the daughter of another guy, and he doesn’t even care about it! His wife has been dishonest with him for many years, but he doesn’t seem to mind living with someone who is dishonest either! He is obviously being indoctrinated.

She had the audacity to refer to it as a “wake-up call,” which should serve as a cautionary tale to other guys about the consequences of “letting love blind you to betrayal.”

To portray herself as courageous, she portrayed herself as someone who had finally “spoke the truth when no one else would.”

It wasn’t enough for my mother to just go after Chloe; she went so far as to completely destroy her, accusing her of being everything from manipulative to immoral and accused her of enslaving me with a kid that was not mine.

Moreover, as if all of that wasn’t enough, she included a picture of Tatum within the package.

This is a picture of my daughter.

The photo shows Tatum in the middle of a giggle while clutching a balloon that came from the celebration. The icing was on her chin, and she was wearing her crown on her head. It was a moment that was so nice and so pure, yet it was turned into a weapon to humiliate and embarrass people. A few of individuals were supporting my mother, but the most of them were just echoing her terrible behavior. The comments were already filling up.

“How could you do this?”

“Why would you show that beautiful child’s face?”

“Yes, as you say, Catherine! Whom our young men choose to associate with need to be more carefully considered.

The paternity of a kid that they did not know was now being debated by unknown individuals.

That was certainly the last straw. There was no communication sent to my mother. I did not make an attempt to argue. I gave her a call.

“I figured you’d see it eventually, Byron,” she replied, with a smug and eager tone in her sentence.

I began by saying, “I want to be absolutely clear,” while maintaining a steady and quiet voice. “You are no longer part of our lives.”

Having vented all of my rage against my mother, I had cried out. At this point, I had just finished… and I felt empty in that really frightening and conclusive sense.

“Because I have been honest with you? mostly due to the fact that I advocated for you when you refused to do it yourself? Byron, be patient with me till I discover the true identity of the father! This is something that Chloe is going to have to cope with.

“If you contact me, Chloe, or the kids again, I’ll make sure a lawyer is involved,” I said in a calm manner.

“You’re throwing your real family away for a lie, Byron,” she said with disapproval.

“My real family includes my wife and children,” I said in response.

I hung up after that. In addition, I isolated my mother.

The evening of that particular day, Chloe and I were seated together in the dim light of Tatum’s nightlight. Because we were both too exhausted and so hollowed out by all that had happened, we hadn’t talked much. But as soon as I turned to face her, she looked up at me and asked the question that had been going through my brain for quite some time.

Do you believe that Tatum witnessed it? According to her, “She is constantly scrolling through the tablet.”

“I don’t know,” I answered in an honest manner. However, Chloe, she is seven years old. I do not believe that she would comprehend… nonetheless, if she did comprehend and if she has any inquiries, we will discuss them with her. We usually do it that way.”

Chloe nodded as she ran her fingers down the spine of one of Tatum’s storybooks. “She keeps asking if she did something wrong,” Chloe said.

The answer is no. My throat clenched while I was saying, “And we’ll keep telling her that until it clicks in her head.”

We were able to inform her the next morning.

Tatum was informed that she is in no danger. That there has been no change and that love is not something that can be measured or a result that can be written down on paper. The members of the family are not usually related by blood. When you are crying, it is the people who are there for you and who you can hold.

There is still some confusion in her mind about it. A just seven years old. I have a strong belief that she is aware of the reality of the situation, even if she is unable to express it at this time.

And when she is older and stronger and looking back at things with a little more distance, she will remember how I held her that night. She will remember it. And how firmly I encircled her with my arms and refused to let go of her at that time.

They will understand that I meant it.

This kind of love is not something that is inherited from nature.

It is a result of the skinned knees that I kissed, the science fair posters that we drew together at the kitchen table, and the evenings that I sat up late when she had a fever and needed nothing but from me. It originates from the manner in which she rushes into my arms whenever she is afraid.

She calls me in the dark when her fantasies get too loud, and it’s about how she does that. And the way I would not hesitate to walk through flames in order to guarantee that she would never cry like that again.

In order for me to know that Tatum was mine, I did not need a test. Everything I needed to do was gaze at her. And get a glimpse of all the most wonderful aspects of the life that Chloe and I have chosen to construct.

Let me tell you another tale that you may appreciate if you’ve loved this one: For everything, including his degree, his employment, and his future, Adrian has put in a lot of hard work. Therefore, when the affluent family of his fiancée presents a substantial wedding gift with conditions attached, he is compelled to face the concept of respect in its truest form. In a world where love, pride, and legacy all come into conflict with one another, Adrian must choose what it means to construct something that is unique to him.

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