What Happened to My Son!

I had just arrived at the kindergarten to pick up my son when a little girl suddenly ran up and threw her arms around me.

“Daddy! How come you had time to pick me up today?”

Startled, I looked down at the unfamiliar child clinging to my leg. “Sweetheart, I think you’ve got the wrong person. I’m here to pick up my son, not you.”

But then, the teacher and other parents insisted that this girl was my daughter.

Even my wife claimed we had only one child—a daughter—and that we never had a son.

I couldn’t believe it, so I had a DNA test done, determined to prove them wrong.

But the results said the same thing—this little girl was biologically mine.

Still, I knew—deep in my bones—that I had a son.

Everyone thought I was going crazy.

Then, eighteen years later, I found an Ultraman toy hidden under the bed.

——

“Honey, I have an emergency meeting today,” my wife, Annalise, said as she rushed to gather her files. “Can you please take our daughter to kindergarten?”

I glanced coldly at the girl quietly eating breakfast at the table—Katie.

“She’s not my daughter. I only have a son. His name is Zion.”

I’d asked everyone I could think of. Visited every clinic that offered paternity testing. However, every test said the same thing: Katie was my daughter.

But I couldn’t accept it. I remembered—I only had a son.

Seeing my stubborn expression, Annalise sighed, her voice tinged with helplessness.

“How long are you going to keep this up?”

“Katie is our daughter. She came early when my water broke unexpectedly. We were stuck in traffic, remember? It was chaos—you delivered her yourself in the car! You used to treasure her more than your own life. Why are you suddenly denying her existence?”

Her eyes looked at me like I was some irrational stranger.

She was right about the day she gave birth. It was a holiday. The roads were completely blocked, and there was no time to get to the hospital.

Panicked, I did what I’d once seen online—I helped deliver the baby in the car with my own hands.

But I remember clearly that the baby I delivered was a boy.

I didn’t even know this little girl sitting in front of me.

Before I could say anything, Katie turned to Annalise nervously.

“Mom, don’t be mad at Dad. I must have done something wrong to upset him. That’s why he’s punishing me.”

She then walked up to me, gently taking my hand with tearful eyes.

“Daddy, I promise I’ll be good from now on. Please don’t be angry with me, okay?”

She fought back her tears as she spoke, her small body trembling with the effort.

But I felt nothing.

Coldly, I shook off her hand and said firmly, “Don’t call me that. I don’t know who you are.”

Her hopeful smile froze in place.

The tears she had tried so hard to hold back came rushing out.

Watching her break down, Annalise looked utterly heartbroken. She held Katie close and gently coaxed her out the door to take her to kindergarten.

No sooner had they left, my parents arrived.

“Ivan, why was Katie crying like that? Did you say something awful to her again?”

“You’ve questioned it, investigated it, taken multiple DNA tests—and you still don’t believe she’s your daughter?”

“She’s our only granddaughter! We’ve watched her grow up since she was born. How could we possibly be wrong about her? What did she ever do to deserve this from you?”

Without another word, my father threw a photo album down in front of me.

Because of their age, my parents were always worried something might happen to them. Every year, they made it a point to gather the whole family for a group photo, wanting to leave behind memories while they still could.

In the photos, I was holding Katie, smiling at her with unfiltered affection.

And it wasn’t just the family portraits.

My phone gallery had thousands of photos and videos of her—Katie as a newborn, eyes still shut tight, curled up like a tiny bean; her bright, watery eyes staring up at me while she drank her milk; the first time she called me “Daddy” in her soft, babbling baby voice; the time she got sick and I held her all night, crying silently with worry.

I scrolled through them all.

Every single image was Katie.

There wasn’t a single trace of my son.

“Ivan,” my father said, his voice heavy, “Katie’s always been the one closest to you. She adored you.”

“But ever since you started pushing her away, she’s been crying herself to sleep every night, thinking it’s all her fault. She thinks she did something wrong to make you stop loving her.”

“She’s such a good child. Even with how cold you’ve been, she’s never once blamed you. How can you keep breaking her heart like this?”

His eyes bore into me—full of both worry and reproach.

My mother sighed and added gently, “Ivan, you and Annalise are still young. If you really want a son, you can always have another child.”

“But why pretend you don’t know Katie? Why invent a son who never existed?”

Their words, full of sorrow and confusion, made something ache deep inside my chest.

I wasn’t someone who favored boys over girls.

But I just couldn’t accept this reality.

I remembered my son—vividly, tangibly. His voice, his smile, his very presence burned into my memory.

How could that all be fake?

I refused to keep talking and locked myself in the bedroom.

Inside the walk-in closet, aside from mine and Annalise’s clothes, were only little dresses—clearly a girl’s wardrobe.

Framed photos on the nightstand showed me and Annalise holding Katie, beaming like the happiest parents alive.

Even the walls were plastered with awards she had won at kindergarten.

Everything—every object, every memory—supported what everyone else believed.

That Katie was my only daughter.

That I had never had a son.

But I refused to believe it.

Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was my son.

His cheerful voice, his bright eyes, the way he sat on my shoulders, gazing at the sky and declaring he was Superman.

Those moments—the joy, the laughter, the love—they felt so real.

How could they not be?

Like a madman, I turned the house upside down, searching every corner for any trace of him.

But there was nothing.

Not a single sign he had ever existed.

A heavy, suffocating unease settled over me.

Driven by instinctive fear, I went to the police station to report my son missing.

But after conducting an investigation, the officers simply gave me a helpless look.

“We’ve looked into everything. You only have a daughter. There’s no record of a son—none.”

In the end, with everyone accusing me of losing my mind, Annalise came to take me home.

Despite all the evidence, despite everyone’s insistence that Katie was my one and only child, I still couldn’t bring myself to love her.

I couldn’t respond when she called me “Daddy.” I pulled away whenever she got close.

Every time I saw her, I couldn’t stop thinking about him—my son, who existed only in my memories.

At first, Annalise tried to reason with me.

She begged me not to let this delusion damage our child and destroy our family.

But when my rejection of Katie only grew more intense, she had no choice but to bring in a psychologist.

Eventually, I was diagnosed with severe delusional disorder.

The diagnosis shattered the last wall I had been clinging to.

After that, I spiraled deeper into confusion, unable to distinguish between reality and illusion.

Everyone was convinced there was something wrong with my mind.

And slowly, I began to doubt myself too.

Was the son I remembered so vividly nothing more than a figment of my imagination?

My parents stopped urging me to treat Katie better.

Annalise no longer tried to convince me to face reality.

Fearing I might unintentionally harm Katie, my parents quietly took her back to their old house.

Only Annalise stayed behind, choosing to care for me on her own.

She made every meal for me, reminded me to take my medication, and handled every detail of my daily life with patience and tenderness.

It was just like when we were newly in love—she smoothed over every dark thought in my heart with infinite gentleness.

Sometimes, my parents would bring Katie to visit me.

Each time, she would look at me with eyes full of hope, trying her best to get closer to me.

But all she ever received in return was my cold indifference.

Despite my rejection, she would still force a smile through the sorrow in her eyes and say softly, “Daddy, no matter how you treat me, you’ll always be the father I love most.”

“I believe one day, you’ll remember me—and accept me again.”

Time flew by.

Eighteen years passed in a blink.

Today was Katie’s wedding day.

Annalise had gotten up early to wash and dress.

There was excitement she couldn’t hide—her entire being was glowing with anticipation.

Before leaving the house, she looked at me one last time and asked, “Today is our daughter’s big day. She told me what she wants most is your blessing.”

“Are you sure you’re not going?”

I shook my head and said blandly, “No. I’m not going.”

Seeing how firm I was, Annalise didn’t push further.

She sighed softly, disappointment gleaming in her eyes, then left for the wedding alone.

I sat in the quiet room, a strange anxiety stirring in my chest. Panic rose from nowhere.

Ever since I was diagnosed with delusional disorder, I had been on medication.

My condition had stabilized over the years. Very little could shake me now.

But for some reason, as I scrolled through my parents’ social media feed filled with pictures of the wedding celebration, a crushing sense of fear hit me.

Everyone was smiling so happily around Katie, laughter bursting from every photo.

And all I could feel was that something incredibly important was being torn away from my life.

The suffocating sense of loss made it hard to breathe.

Hands trembling, I reached for the bottle of pills in my nightstand drawer.

But my shaking fingers couldn’t grasp it.

The bottle slipped from my hands, rolling under the bed.

I dropped to the floor to retrieve it—

And there, beneath the bed, I saw it.

A single Ultraman toy.

My eyes widened in shock.

In an instant, every memory of my son came flooding back like a tidal wave.

I remembered every detail over the years.

I re-examined every moment, every oddity I had dismissed.

And then, suddenly—it all clicked into place.

The truth, sharp and clear.

So this… this is what really happened.

With my heart pounding, I rushed out the door, heading straight to Katie’s wedding.

The venue was full of guests, laughter echoing through the air.

Katie stood in a snow-white wedding dress, arm-in-arm with her groom, making toasts and smiling radiantly.

Then she saw me.

Her eyes lit up immediately.

She broke into a run and stopped in front of me, joy spilling from her voice.

“Dad! You came—did you come to my wedding just to give me your blessing?!”

Her face was glowing with happiness—unable to hide the sheer excitement and surprise.

To her, my arrival must have felt like the universe finally answering her deepest wish.

And then Annalise stepped forward beside her, also smiling.

“You finally came around, honey.”

“Katie kept looking around all day, hoping you’d show up at her wedding.”

“Thank goodness you did. If you hadn’t come, this day would’ve been filled with regret for her.”

Annalise looked at me with relief in her eyes, like a mother proud of a child who had finally grown up.

I glanced at her, then at Katie.

And then I let out a cold, bitter laugh.

“This wedding… I’m probably the last person you two wanted to see here, aren’t I?”

My words made both Annalise and Katie freeze.

Around us, the wedding guests started to whisper with furrowed brows:

“What’s wrong with this guy? He skipped his daughter’s wedding, then showed up just to stir trouble?”

“I heard he’s been suffering from delusions for years. He claims Katie isn’t his daughter, and kept calling the cops to help him search for some imaginary son. He drove his whole family to the brink!”

“And yet, his wife never gave up on him. She took care of him day in and day out. His daughter tolerated everything, and tried everything to help him get better.”

“With someone that useless and deranged, how did he end up with such a good wife and such a thoughtful daughter?”

“Exactly! I can’t stand crazy people. All they do is make everyone around them miserable.”

Accusations and disgusted looks swarmed me like a wave, as if I were some heinous criminal who had committed unforgivable crimes.

Before it could spiral further, Annalise quickly stepped forward to shield me.

“Please, don’t be so harsh. Ivan is just sick—he’s not a bad person.”

“I hope everyone can show him a little more patience and kindness.”

“Once he recovers, he’ll go back to being the loving man we knew, the husband and father who cared deeply for his family.”

Katie nodded with tears shimmering in her eyes.

“Yes, no matter what… he’s still my father. He gave me life and raised me. He’s the person I love most in this world.”

“If you’re upset with him, take it out on me. Just don’t hurt my dad.”

Their heartfelt words moved the guests.

People who were cursing me just moments ago were now clapping in admiration, touched by the mother and daughter’s compassion and devotion.

But in the middle of all that applause—I laughed.

A cold, hollow laugh.

I looked straight at Annalise and Katie, my eyes like ice.

Word by word, I said, “Stop pretending.”

“I know everything.”