“Fucking unbelievable. Two people who meant the world to me are fabricating this nonsense. I don’t even know how to respond to you both.”

Aaliya takes a step closer, but before she can say a word, there is a loud cry from the next room. A worried look crosses Aaliya’s face as her gaze meets mine. She wipes her cheeks and hurries inside. She returns a minute later with a toddler, his head tucked by the side of her neck. She whispers soothing words to the wailing kid. Something twists inside me at the sight of her holding a child in her arms. But I ignore it.

Gabriel is standing with his arms folded, searching my face, as I concentrate on Aaliya interacting with the child. He exchanges a glance with Jonathan before he says, “He is yours, Damien. Look at him.”

I laugh. “You are crazy if you think I’m going to believe you.”

Suddenly there is pin drop silence as the baby stops crying and lifts his head to look at me. His tear stained face watches me in silence for a few moments until he opens his mouth and says, “Papa.”

He pushes against Aaliya to be let down and she lowers him to the floor. He takes a tentative step towards me and my hands rush to my head. He may have looked like Aaliya from the photos taken from afar but in reality, he doesn’t look like her. He looks...just like me. Even his eyes are the same grey green like mine. And his hair, it’s darker but with the same honey gold streaks like mine.

He takes another step forward. He raises his little arms up in the air and walks right up to me.

“Papa,” he mumbles as he reaches my legs and his wide eyes look at me pleadingly.

My throat tightens as I lower myself at eye level with the kid. The reality of this unbelievable situation strikes me hard, right in the center of my chest.

I fall on my knees without any hesitation as the kid wraps his tiny arms around my neck. “Papapapapapa...” he sings, like it’s a melody.

I shut my eyes. My head begins to pound fiercely and images of the boy hit my brain like a storm.

A newborn baby in my arms...

A baby asleep in his cot...

A baby crawling towards me...

Me reading to the baby at night while he sleeps...

Me holding the baby on my shoulder next to a window in an apartment in a high rise in an unfamiliar city...

The images keep coming, one after the other, of moments I’ve shared with this little boy, and along with that come the emotions. Suddenly, my head clears, my heart filling with joy and overwhelming love for this little guy. He is mine and I remember him.

I pull my son into my arms and hold him close.