I wasn’t expecting to find a positive pregnancy test in a package addressed to my father. And I definitely wasn’t expecting the romantic note signed with a teasing “darling”. Was my father cheating on my mother? Was he going to have a child behind our backs?
I had always believed that my parents had the perfect marriage. They laughed at the same silly jokes, danced in the kitchen when they thought no one was looking and never missed an opportunity to remind me how much they loved each other.
But what about now? Now I didn’t know what to believe.
I moved out of my parents’ house when I was eighteen, eager to pursue my independence in the city.
My apartment was tiny. It had just enough space for me, a saggy sofa and a kitchen that could barely fit two people. But it was mine, and I was proud of it.
Between work and studies, I barely had time to breathe, let alone visit my parents in the suburbs. We kept in touch, of course. But I hadn’t seen them in months.
So, when my phone rang that afternoon and I saw my father’s name, I smiled and answered immediately.
“Hello, stranger,“ I joked.
“Hello, little girl,” he said affectionately. “Guess what? I’m going to the city tomorrow for work.”
“What? I don’t believe it!“ I jumped up from the sofa. ‘That’s incredible! Where will you be staying?’
“In a hotel in the city center. Just for a couple of nights.”
“Well, I’ll definitely come and see you. No arguments.”
She chuckled. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
I hung up, buzzing with excitement.
My father and I had always been very close. He was the one who taught me to drive, who didn’t miss a single one of my school plays and who made the best pancakes on Saturday mornings.
I couldn’t wait to see him.
The following afternoon, I arrived at his hotel, practically skipping down the hall. When he opened the door, I hugged him.
“Dad!” I squealed.
“Hi, kiddo,“ he laughed, squeezing me tight. ‘Wow, you look great.’
“So do you,” I said, taking a step back to look at him. He looked the same, but his hair was grayer and longer than the last time I saw him.
And his smile? It hadn’t changed.
We sat down in his hotel room and caught up as if no time had passed.
He asked me about my studies, my work and if I was eating enough.
Meanwhile, I asked him about mum, the house and our dog, Buster. Everything about our meeting seemed normal to me. I felt safe and overjoyed.
That was until there was a knock at the door.
Dad was in the bathroom when I heard it.
“Can you get that for me?” he shouted. ‘It must be the courier.”
I got up and opened the door to a delivery man holding a small brown package. I signed and read the label.
“Do you want me to open it?’ I asked him.
“Sure, I’m sure it’s something for work.”
I peeled off the tape, expecting documents or maybe a spare part for something.
Instead, I found something I could never have imagined.
A positive pregnancy test.
With it was a printed note that read: “Congratulations, darling! See you at Café *** at 7pm.
My head was spinning as I looked at the note and then at the pregnancy test.
This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.
I looked again at the note, trying to make sense of it all.
Was my father having an affair? Was my devoted and loving father cheating on my mother? With a pregnant mistress?
My anger rose to my throat. I felt sick.
My hands trembled as I put everything back in the box and sealed it.
At that moment, I could only think of one person. My mother. My dear mother.
I thought she deserved to know what was going on here. But it wasn’t my place to have that conversation.
Suddenly, my father came out of the bathroom, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“What was it?” he asked as he wiped his hands on a towel.
I swallowed, forcing my face to remain neutral. “Er… just a package. I haven’t opened it.”
He nodded and took it from me without thinking twice.
But I wasn’t going to let it go.
I needed to find out what was going on. I needed to see who my father was seeing.
That same afternoon, I put on a jacket and headed for the place mentioned in the note. My heart was pounding in my chest as I took a seat in a quiet corner.
I looked around the restaurant, trying to see if the woman who had sent the note to my father was already there.
Is it her? I thought as I looked at a blonde woman sitting alone. She looked to be about forty years old.
But then my suspicions were dispelled when a man came and sat down next to her.
When I looked away, my gaze fell on a familiar face entering through the door. It was my father.
He had arrived at exactly seven in the evening.
He didn’t sneak in or look over his shoulder like a guilty man. No. He entered as if he had nothing to hide, standing tall and scanning the room.
And then I saw it.
A bouquet of roses in his hand.
I clenched my fists under the table, my pulse roaring in my ears. Roses? Really? Was he about to give them to his pregnant lover?
My heart pounded against my ribs as I grabbed the coffee cup. I had prepared myself for the worst, but seeing it happen in real time was something else.
I ducked my head and lifted the hood slightly, hoping he wouldn’t notice my presence. I needed to see who he was meeting.
The minutes passed. Tension took hold of my chest.
Then the doorbell rang and someone entered.
I held my breath as I watched a woman come in.
I knew her.
And she was the last person I expected to see.
It was my mother.
I blinked hard, sure I was imagining things. But no. It was her. She was standing in the doorway, her eyes scanning the room until she saw him.
She exclaimed, bringing her hands to her mouth.
What was going on?
My father got up and his face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. In three long strides he crossed the room and embraced her.
They laughed. They kissed. They whispered in a low voice, dazed and completely oblivious to the astonished woman (read: me) who was watching them from the other side of the cafeteria.
Then, when she turned away, my father leaned over slightly and gave her a reverent kiss on the stomach.
My jaw almost hit the table.
That’s when I saw it.
The slight swelling under my mother’s dress.
She was pregnant.
I grabbed my phone with trembling fingers, instinct took over. I hit record and started to capture the beautiful moment.
It was so funny how I had spent the whole day convinced that my father was an unfaithful liar. And now I found out that he was nothing more than an ecstatic and madly in love husband.
Later that night, I sat in my flat and watched the video over and over again. I felt so relieved.
My parents had been together for twenty years and yet they still looked at each other as if they were falling in love for the first time. I had spent hours agonizing over the worst possible scenario, only to realize that I was very, very wrong.
And now they were going to have another baby.
A baby.
I shook my head and let out a breathless laugh. “Unbelievable”.
For so long, it had only been the three of us. Me, their only daughter, the center of their world.
And now, at forty-two, was my mother starting over? I was having trouble getting used to the idea.
I played the video again, watching my father pressing a kiss on my mother’s stomach, their whispered laughter, the look of pure love between them.
It was too good not to share.
***
Six months later, at my mother’s baby shower, I stood in front of a room full of family and friends and picked up the phone.
“I have a story to tell,” I announced, my eyes shining, as I looked at my parents, who were sitting next to each other, with my father’s hand resting on my mother’s now very round belly.
They looked at me confused.
I pressed play.
On the screen, the short video clip came to life. It showed my father leaning over, pressing a kiss on my mother’s belly, her delighted laughter and the soft whispers that only they could hear.
The room was filled with sentimental sighs and warm smiles.
Then, when the video ended, I took a deep breath and told everyone the full story of how I had found the package, thought the worst and then practically stalked my own father.
By the time I finished, my father was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. My mother playfully swatted my arm, shaking her head.
“Amelia!” she scolded me, although she was smiling. ‘Did you really think your father was cheating on me?”
“I panicked!’ I defended myself. ”It’s not every day you find a pregnancy test in a package addressed to your father!”
The room erupted in laughter, while my father wiped his eyes, still laughing.
“Well, that’s one way to get the heart rate up,” he said.
I looked around at the faces of the people who had shaped my life: my parents, my little brother who would soon be born, and a room full of love and laughter.
It was then that I knew this was a story we would be telling for years to come.