Or, more accurately, our son’s name was Andrew. We agreed to meet, with both children, at our place.
That night before the meeting, Paul and I let Austin sleep in our bed. We held him close while he drifted off.
“He’s still our son, right?” I whispered through tears. “We raised him. We’ve loved him for four years. I don’t want to give him up.”
Paul squeezed my hand tightly. “Of course, he’s our son. No one’s taking him from us,” he reassured me.
***
The next day, when Sarah and James arrived with Andrew, all my doubts vanished. They were both blond, just like Austin.
And Andrew… Andrew looked exactly like Paul.
It was like someone had taken a copy of Paul and shrunk it down into a little boy.
While Austin and Andrew played together, the four of us talked.
“We had our suspicions, especially in the beginning,” Sarah admitted. “But we just chalked it up to genetics.”
“After your call, we did a quick DNA test. Everything made sense after that. I still can’t believe this actually happened,” she said, her voice breaking as she started crying.
“I get it,” Paul nodded gently. “It was not easy for us either.”
“But we don’t want to give up Austin,” I said firmly.