The one week James had given Emily passed quickly. Each day he watched her, waiting to see if she would change her mind. But Emily held her ground. She fed the baby, cleaned the house, and went about her duties, but she never once mentioned the hospital. On the seventh day, James sat in the living room while Emily bathed the baby. When she came out, holding the child wrapped in a soft towel, James cleared his throat. “Emily,” he began quietly, “I gave you one week. That week has ended. Are you ready now to take this child to the hospital?” Emily did not answer immediately. She carried the baby to the bedroom, dressed him, and then returned to the sitting room. James was still waiting. “Emily, I am talking to you,” he said firmly. She sighed. “James, how many times will I say it? I am not going anywhere. Stop pressing me. I will not do any DNA test. I will not do any hospital test. You are the father of this child, and that is final.” James leaned forward, trying to remain calm. “If I a...
James woke up early on Monday morning. He had been thinking all night. Emily’s refusal to do a DNA test had left him restless. He could not focus at work, and every time he looked at the baby, the doubt grew stronger. By 9am, he drove to the hospital alone. He didn’t take the baby with him because he wanted to first ask some questions before deciding on the next step. When he arrived, he went to the reception and asked to speak with a doctor. A few minutes later, he was shown into a small office. The doctor, a middle-aged man with glasses, greeted him warmly. “Good morning, Mr. James. How can I help you today?” James sat down and leaned forward. “Doctor, I have an unusual question. Is it possible for two white parents to give birth to a black baby?” The doctor looked thoughtful. “It is possible, but it is very rare. In some cases, the child may have inherited certain genes from past generations. In other rare cases, it could be a medical condition affecting the skin.” James nodded slow...