My mother-in-law invited all the relatives to expose me and prove that I didn’t have the baby by her son. She had done a DNA test and decided to open the envelope in front of the guests.
— According to the paternity test… the boy really is my son’s child, — my mother-in-law announced with a displeased face.
Everyone sighed in relief, and I stood up from my seat:
— Dear relatives, now that we’ve cleared that up, I want to open another envelope.
My mother-in-law went pale.
— No. Don’t. Please, — she said quietly, but it was already too late.
I opened the envelope and… Continued in the first comment 
I never thought I’d have to prove my husband’s faithfulness — not through actions, not through trust, but through paper. Through soulless letters and numbers that either save or destroy.
My mother-in-law stood in front of me, arms crossed over her chest, lips pressed into a thin line.
— We have to be sure. You see, it’s our family name. And you… you used to date that… Artyom.
She pronounced my ex’s name as if he were a curse.
I glanced at my husband. He didn’t look me in the eyes.
— It’s not about distrust, just… Let’s close this matter once and for all.
Pain burned in my chest.
— Fine. But then you also take the test. To be fair.
— That’s too much.
— No, — I was firm. — If we’re playing blood test, we play fair.
Three weeks passed. We got the results, and my mother-in-law proudly organized a “family evening.” Everyone gathered: my husband’s brothers, aunts, cousins.
— Well, — she began, pulling out a white envelope, — the results are in.
Pause. Theatrical. She lingered, enjoying the moment.
— According to the paternity test… the boy really is my son’s child.
Silence fell over the room. Someone sighed with relief. Someone whispered in surprise. My mother-in-law seemed to lose her balance, sat down, lips tightly pressed. But it wasn’t over yet.
I stood up.
— Thank you. Now it’s my turn. There’s another result I think everyone will want to hear.
My mother-in-law jumped up:
— No. Don’t. Please.
— Why not? You wanted the truth.
I opened the envelope.
— The test showed: Igor is not Anatoly’s biological son.
Dead silence. My father-in-law slowly turned his head toward his wife.
— What… is this?
My mother-in-law lowered her eyes.
— That was a long time ago… I thought you’d never find out…
My husband sat with his mouth open. Then he looked at me.
— Did you know?
— No. I just wanted everything to be fair.
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