Chapter 3 Three

The next morning, Nick woke with the same heaviness in his chest, a pressure that had not lifted since the reunion. He had hoped sleep might wash it away, but his dreams had been fractured. He rose early, before Noel stirred, and stood by the window staring at the gray Toronto sky.

The city was waking. Cars hummed faintly in the distance, a neighbour's dog barked, and the scent of coffee drifted faintly up from the kitchen where Noel had set the machine the night before. It should have been a comforting scene, the kind that made him feel rooted. Instead, his heart thudded with a nervous rhythm that refused to quiet.

By the time Noel joined him downstairs, wrapped in a soft robe, Nick had already rehearsed the role he would play; calm, steady, as if everything was still perfectly alright. He would not let her see the storm inside him.

"Morning", Noel said, her voice still warm with sleep as she poured herself coffee.

"Morning", Nick replied, forcing his tone light. He kissed her forehead, lingering for a second as though the feel of her skin could ease the guilt crawling beneath his own.

She looked up at him then, her brow knitting slightly.

"Well, you're up early. Couldn't sleep?" she asked.

"Big week at the firm, I have a lot on my mind", Nick lied smoothly.

She nodded, accepting the excuse, though her eyes lingered on him as if trying to read the truth.

***

Nick weighed the thought of the decision he had come to the previous night all through the day. He hesitated over whether he should go ahead with it or not. That evening, when Mason bounded into the living room with his math workbook, Nick saw his chance, and he grabbed it with both hands.

"Dad, can you help me with this?" Mason asked, dropping the book onto the coffee table and flopping down beside him.

Nick smiled, ruffling his son's hair, though his stomach tightened with unease. He reached for Mason's pencil, guiding him through the equation, but his mind was already racing ahead. When Mason laughed at a silly mistake and left his pencil behind to chase Maire up the stairs, Nick's hand trembled slightly.

The pencil, chewed at the end, smudged with Mason's saliva and consequently DNA, was exactly what he needed. He pocketed it quickly, heart pounding, before Noel reentered the room carrying a basket of laundry.

"Where did Mason run off to?" she asked, glancing around.

"Upstairs with Maire", Nick said, smiling easily, praying she wouldn't notice the tightness in his voice.

Noel smiled faintly and disappeared toward the laundry room.

***

The next day, Maire provided another opportunity. She was colouring at the kitchen table, her tongue peeking out in concentration, crayons scattered across the surface. When she finished, she left behind the straw from her juice box, sticky with the last sip. Nick picked it up carefully when Noel stepped out to take a phone call. He slipped it into a small envelope, his pulse racing.

The guilt was sharper this time; Maire was so little, so trusting. She adored him and believed in him utterly. What kind of father used her innocence this way? But once the thought of doubt had taken root, it couldn't be stopped, it demanded answers. By the end of the day, Nick had sealed both items in separate envelopes, labelled discreetly. He tucked them into his briefcase, the weight of them heavier than any blueprint or contract.

***

The days crawled by in a haze of tension. At the firm, Nick found it hard to concentrate. His staff noticed the distraction in the way he stared too long at drawings, how he snapped at small mistakes. At home, Noel's watchful eyes followed him more than usual. One evening, as she cleared the dinner plates, she asked softly,

"You've been restless lately. Is it work, or is it... something else?"

Nick froze, the words cutting too close. He forced a smile, shaking his head.

"Work. It's just I have a lot of deadlines piling up", he answered.

She hesitated, studying him, but didn't press. Still, her silence held weight. She knew him too well. She could sense something was wrong, even if she couldn't name what it was. That night, as she slipped into bed beside him, Nick lay awake long after. Her hand rested lightly against his chest, her breathing slow, her trust complete, and he lay there, drowning in guilt, knowing he had already crossed a line she could not imagine.

***

Two days later, he mailed the samples. It was a simple act, just a discreet package dropped into a post box on his way to the firm. He had researched carefully, chosen a private lab, and paid extra for confidentiality. His hands shook as he slid the envelope in, the sound of it falling into the box echoing in his ears.

When he walked away, the city seemed sharper, louder, every noise exaggerated. He half expected someone to call after him, to accuse him of betrayal. But the street carried on as usual, people hurrying to work, a bus pulling to the curb, a cyclist weaving through traffic. The world hadn't changed, only Nick had.

The days that followed were the longest of his life. He carried the secret heavily, every smile came out looking forced, every conversation with Noel tinged with unease. One night, he stood at the doorway of the children's room, watching Mason and Maire sleep. Mason sprawled across his bed, sheets tangled around his legs, mouth open slightly in the deep sleep. Maire curled on her side, arms wrapped around her doll, hair fanned across the pillow. Nick's chest ached.

They were his world, his joy, his pride, his legacy. He had built everything for them. And yet here he was, questioning the very foundation of it, but then again, if the results came back and it turned out they weren't his, that would equally crush him. He stepped inside quietly, brushing Mason's hair from his forehead, adjusting Maire's blanket. They stirred but did not wake. He stood there for a long time, guilt gnawing at him, whispering that he was betraying them even as he told himself he was protecting them.

***

The email came five days later. Nick was at his desk at the firm, papers spread around him, when the notification pinged. He froze, staring at the subject line: CONFIDENTIAL RESULTS – ELBA SAMPLES.

His mouth went dry. His hands trembled as he clicked it open, eyes scanning the clinical lines of the report.

"Sample provided is a 99.9% match"

Both children, Mason and Maire, were his.

Nick exhaled, his body sagging with relief. For a moment, he let the weight lift, let the truth wash over him. He should have felt free, should have felt foolish for ever doubting. He should have closed the laptop, gone home, embraced Noel, and laughed at his own paranoia.

But instead, as the relief settled, another feeling crept in: guilt, sharp and searing. He had doubted Noel, the woman who had given him everything. He had doubted his own children and worse, even with the truth in front of him, the seed Bella had planted did not die.

He dreaded how he would tell Noel about this, about how he had doubted her so much that he had carried out a DNA test behind her back. Maybe he shouldn't? Or maybe he wouldn't. Other than that, he feared the doubt that had taken a deep root in his heart because if he had been wrong this time, what about the next? If trust could fracture once, could it ever truly be whole again?

Nick closed the laptop slowly, his reflection faint on the black screen. His jaw was tight, his eyes haunted. The results had given him what he wanted. But peace, he realised, would not come so easily.