The Child of My Mother-in-Law

Those over thirty hours on the plane left my bones aching and jet lag twisting my stomach; all I wanted was to get home and rest. The suitcase wheels rattled down the hallway, striking my fraying nerves. The moment I opened the door, I thought I must be in the wrong place—the foyer held a pair of pink baby walking shoes, their soles still smeared with milk stains. From the living room came unfamiliar, grating sounds of someone coaxing a child. Mike's mother sat on the sofa clutching a one-year-old toddler dressed in a pale yellow onesie, gnawing on a teether. The moment she saw me, she shoved the child into my arms: "Quincy's back! Andy, say 'Mommy.'" I froze in place as my suitcase thudded hard against the floor. Mike Carter came out of the bedroom and pushed against my waist. "Mom had an unexpected pregnancy. Having a child at her age doesn't look right, so we'll say the baby is ours." "Your career is the most important thing. If you don't want to have the baby, I will not force you." Mike's mother spoke with pride, her finger tracing the child's cheek. "Andy doesn't need to know who gave birth to him. He's our family’s blood, and after he grows up, he'll take care of you all." I stared at her face, barely able to hold back a laugh. My father-in-law died four years ago, and just last year she went with me to get my IUD removed. So where is this 'unexpected pregnancy' coming from? I pulled out my phone and called my friend who handles paternity tests. "Can you get it done today? I'll deliver the sample shortly." Before I could finish, Mike Carter snatched the phone away and snapped the screen off. "What do you mean? Andy is my mother's biological child!" His face flushed with urgency as he rushed into the bedroom and pulled out a folder. "Here—prenatal check report, birth certificate, all of it. Look!" The name and age on the documents belong to Mike's mother, but I'm an obstetrician—progesterone and HCG levels clearly correspond to a woman in her twenties, nothing like a "pregnancy at fifty." I clenched the report and sneered, "I thought the child was yours because Andy looks so much like you when you were little." Mike's mother and Mike clearly breathed a sigh of relief, exchanging furtive glances that betrayed their guilt. "How could you not tell me something this big?" I scanned the living room filled with baby supplies. "You could have at least told me." "Who is the father of the child?" "Don't make wild guesses!" Mike immediately interrupted. "Mom had a boyfriend last year, but he suffered a cerebral infarction and passed away soon after Mom was pregnant. She felt ashamed and didn't want you to worry abroad, so she never told you." Mike's mother placed Andy on the baby's carpet. "You don't have to take care of the child. I will do that." I looked around the room, filled with traces that weren't mine, my stomach churning. "Fine, then move out today and restore my home to its original state." I leaned against the hallway cabinet, my voice cold and empty. Mike's mother spun around sharply, her eyes wide with shock. "Quincy, what did you say? You want to kick me out?" "Aren't you supposed to be the most kind girl? How can you be so cruel to your mother-in-law?" Mike frowned and said sharply, "Have you lost all sense of filial duty?" Mike's mother picked up Andy and started to leave, her footsteps heavy and deliberate: "I'm taking my grandson. I'd rather sleep on the street than endure anyone's attitude." The child was terrified and suddenly let out a piercing, ear-splitting scream. "Andy, don't cry..." Mike Carter tried to take the child, but Mike's mother held on tightly, her eyes red with tears. "At my age, having a child makes me the villain! Let go—I'll die right here with Andy!" I stood there, my head throbbing. More than thirty hours without sleep, jet lag hitting me hard, watching them put on that act just made me sick. I turned to go wash my face in the bathroom when suddenly Mike Carter grabbed my arm. "Apologize to my mom!" His grip was tight, his nails digging almost into my skin. I rolled my eyes in irritation, about to speak, when an unexpected slap landed on my face. A burning pain spread across my cheek as Mike's angry shout began: "Quincy, you..." The doorbell suddenly rang, cutting him off. Mike's mother opened the door nearby, tears still on her face, her expression instantly frozen.