"Your DNA paternity test results are out." A first-year resident doctor of Hospital A handed a document to a middle-aged man with aqua-colored hair.
"Mr. Fablas, we have meticulously carried out the test according to your requirements. We hope you are satisfied. If you have any questions or concerns, please reach out to us. Now, if you'll excuse me…"
"You may go."
"Have a wonderful day, Mr. Fablas."
The doctor left.
The middle-aged man called Mr. Fablas was now the only one left in the hallway.
He took a deep breath, looking solemn and tense. His free hand clenched and unclenched, in both uneasiness and anticipation for the result he was about to see.
His withered heart seemed to sprout with hope after years of fruitless search.
That boy looked so much like him and his wife, he should be his child.
But the man was still too afraid to look. What if the results are contrary to his imagination? What a big blow it would be to his heart.
No, no, no. He shouldn't think like that. What if? What if that boy really is the child of him and his wife? Then he'll be closer to reuniting his family after many years of forced separation.
Gathering his courage, with his hands no longer trembling, Mr. Fablas skimmed past a few pages of irrelevant and insignificant paragraphs and turned to the last page of the result document.
The last page that mattered the most.
In a bold, large font.
[The alleged father is excluded as the biological father with a probability of 0%.]
Zero percent probability of blood relationship.
He's not his child.
The paper crumpled in the man's hands.
A nameless anger and helplessness flooded his mind.
"...I should have known. I should have known!"
In a fit of rage, Mr. Fablas threw the papers down onto the ground and stomped away. If it were not for the staple, the papers would have scattered all over the floor. In pieces like the man's hope and prayers.
The hallway quieted down.
Not long after, two sets of footsteps hurriedly came into the scene.
It was one resident doctor and one first-year resident doctor, the latter of which was the one who handed the paternity test results to Mr. Fablas.
This doctor was the first-year resident doctor's supervisor. After the mixup came to his attention, he immediately checked the situation and then brought his intern to find Mr. Fablas to rectify the situation.
Unfortunately, he was a step too late.
Seeing that no one was here, the doctor sighed. He spotted the report that had been abandoned on the floor and went up to it and picked it up.
"I'll have to tell the front desk to call up this client and clarify the mixed-up reports situation. What a headache." The doctor felt his head throbbing. He rubbed his temple to relieve the pressure.
He flipped open the two different sets of paternity reports. He felt his headache intensifying when he saw the results. He closed his eyes and took in deep breaths to calm himself down. He also patted his chest to calm down his rapid heartbeat from the excitement of the situation.
Then he turned to the trembling intern on the side and fiercely scolded the latter, "Look at what you've done! You mixed up the papers, that's fine, but you didn't catch your mixup and handed the wrong test results to our client. How are you going to make up for this?! Now the client is gone, we can't even give him an explanation at the first time."
"Sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I-I don't know how it happened. I made sure to separate the two reports, but for some reason they still got switched and given to the wrong clients. I'm so sorry! It won't happen again, I promise!" The younger of the two repeatedly bowed and apologized, crying while explaining.
His supervisor waved him off, not wanting to listen any longer. After all, the mistake has already been made and talking about it anymore won't resolve the situation.
"Don't explain it to me, explain it to the clients and to the director. You're just a first-year resident yet you've made such a big mistake, costing our hospital's reputation and prestige. Even I'll be dragged in because I'm responsible for supervising you. Just wait to be punished. You will be considered lucky if you don't get fired!" Leaving these final words that weighed heavier than a mountain, the doctor shoved the reports in his hands to the intern and then hurriedly left to deal with the aftermath.
The first-year resident who gave the wrong papers to Mr. Fablas had only been working for less than a year, fresh out of medical school. He never expected that he would cause such a big mess during his internship. He was full of regret and panic.
His young and immature face was overcast with sincere remorse.
He really didn't understand how this happened. He was sure that he identified the right clients and matched them with their respective reports. After sorting the reports, he had only gone for a quick bathroom visit. The reports looked untouched when he came back. How could this happen?
He sniffled. Holding back his tears, he quickly held onto the reports in his arms and chased after the disappearing back of his supervisor.
The pages fluttered in the young man's arms.
On the front page stood the name of the parent party of the blood test: Gabriel Fablas.
As the pages flipped to the end under the hand of the wind generated from the first-year resident doctor's movements, a line of words in a bold and large font could be glimpsed.
[The alleged father is included as the biological father with a probability of 99.9%.]
Before the two, doctor and intern, could get far, a sudden burst of chaotic noise stopped them in their tracks.
The doctor stopped a nurse who was rushing somewhere in a hurry. He asked, "What's going on?"
The nurse hurriedly answered before running off. "There was a chain car accident on the highway near our hospital. Now, all the patients have been rushed here. Doctor, we will need your assistance as well."
"Understood." The doctor agreed and ran off in a different direction than before.
The intern wanted to say something but then stopped himself. 'Nevermind, the car accident is more important. I can't make any more mistakes.' Then he rushed to give a hand as well.
The entire Hospital A became bustling with new patients and busy staff members.
The matter of the report mix-up was all but forgotten by the doctor at this point.
The only one who remembered, the intern, he didn't know when to bring it up. Every time he wanted to bring it up to the doctor, the doctor was called away to treat a patient or busy with something.
In the end, the intern found himself closing his mouth, waiting for the right moment to speak. Though that moment seemed impossible to grasp.
In this busy way, one day passed after another.
Finally, all car accident victims and their families were settled. Their conditions stabilized. The hospital was no longer in a flurry of activity.
The doctor took a break and drank a few gulps of water after seeing off his last patient for the day.
The intern by his side seemed to see this as his opportunity and quickly went up to his supervisor. "Doctor, do you think we should call the client from before now?"
"What client?" The doctor asked before taking another gulp of water.
"The one who got the wrong paternity test report."
Pft—
The doctor spat out the water he had just drank. Uh oh. He had felt that he seemed to have forgotten something important, but it wasn't until the intern's reminder that he remembered what it was.
He wiped the water dripping from his chin. "Call! We must call now! Urgh, how come you didn't say anything these past few days? It's been so long already, I hope nothing bad happened because of this mix-up."
The intern who got blamed didn't speak up. He thought that retorting now wouldn't help himself in any way so he might as well keep silent to avoid another scolding.
"Let's go!" The doctor screwed back the water bottle cap, placed the bottle on a table, and pulled the intern along to go to the front desk to call the client.
***
In the living room of a huge mansion on the outskirts of the city.
A middle-aged man with aqua hair sat with crossed legs on an expensive, 8-seat leather sofa.
Maids and servants stood in a row around the living room, ready to attend to any of their master's needs.
A butler came in with an exquisite silver tray. On the tray sat a steaming cup of black coffee. The coffee cup, in contrast to the beautiful tray carved with beautiful patterns and smooth edges, had slanted edges and the carvings on it resembled scribbles. Yet it was this unsightly cup that was treasured by the head of this mansion for many years.
The butler bent forward and brought the tray to his master's side.
His master Mr. Fablas took the cup of coffee, took a sip, and then carefully held the cup with a sense of cherishment. His thumbs repeatedly brushed against the protruding part of the cup, on which was carved the words "My beloved husband" in a clumsy but endearing way.
The butler took in this sight with a smile in his wrinkled eyes as well as a sigh in his heart.
This old butler has been with Mr. Fablas for many, many years. He had served this family for two generations, while his own ancestors had served this family for countless generations. He used to be the trusted right-hand man of Mr. Fablas's father, who was a loyal and capable man, who treated the old butler and his family well. Now, he was the trusted right-hand man of his deceased master's son.
He had a loving wife and a beautiful daughter. His wife died years ago and only his daughter was left to accompany him. Then his daughter fell in love, got married, and had a son. But something happened and they went missing.
The old butler's heart ached recalling the past.
His wife had long left him and now his only daughter was gone too. How was an old man like him supposed to live on when he is the only one left in his family?
But he knows that he is not the only one in pain. His daughter's husband was also in pain. An Indescribeable pain. Like the heartcrushing pain the old butler felt when the wife he loved with all his being passed away.
His daughter and her husband—two childhood sweethearts forced apart by circumstances that were uncontrollable.
The old butler looked up at his daughter's husband.
On the sofa, Mr. Fablas drank another sip of the black coffee.
The dark liquid slid down his throat and settled within his stomach, making it bitter, emulating the state of his heart.
Dark, pungent, sour.
Brewing his own mood, Mr. Fablas remained silent, causing his household staff to consciously hold their breaths, afraid of disturbing him.
Even the old butler straightened up by his side without a word after the coffee was delivered.
It was in this silence that the sound of a phone call broke through all barriers and made its presence known.
The old butler hurriedly took out the phone in his pocket and saw the caller ID. He cautiously approached Mr. Fablas and showed the latter the screen.
Mr. Fablas turned his head, saw it, and nodded. He took another sip of the black coffee.
"Then, excuse me, sir," the butler said respectfully.
Beep.
The old butler picked up the call.
"Hello, is this Mr. Fablas? This is the front desk of Hospital A speaking."
"Good afternoon, I am Mr. Fablas's butler. You can talk to me if you have anything."
"...Oh, okay. Last time Mr. Fablas came to Hospital A, he received the wrong paternity test report. We are here to inform you of this mix-up, which we are terribly sorry for. To apologize, we will not take the payment for the paternity test and we will compensate you instead. We hope that you or Mr. Fablas will come to our hospital to retrieve the correct report."
The butler paused upon hearing the words of the caller. There was a mistake with the paternity test report? Instantly, a vague but expecting feeling was aroused in his heart.
Then he pressed that feeling down. The butler had been working in this field of blood and knives for his entire life, he would not let himself be easily moved by anything. Though he had renewed hope in his heart, he didn't let himself be excited too early.
"...Understood. I will inform Mr. Fablas about this."
"Yes. Thank you. I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day."
Beep—
The phone call ended.
The butler held the now silent phone and turned to Mr. Fablas.
"Mr. Fablas, this…"
"I know. I heard."
Mr. Fablas cut him off with a naturally cold tone, but underneath that voice, the old and experienced butler could hear a rising undercurrent. He thought to himself, 'I believe I'm not the only one sensing something big about to happen.'
"Then, will you be going?" The butler inquired curiously.
Mr. Fablas did not answer with words but with actions. The master of the mansion finally arose from the sofa he had been resting on. He carefully placed the cup of coffee on the glass table in front of the sofa. Without needing his instructions, someone will clean it for him and put the treasured cup back in its own designated area.
Mr. Fablas grabbed the coat he had placed on the back of the sofa, swung it onto his shoulder, and strided off. The old butler burst into a smile and hurriedly followed after his master after instructing the other servants and maids on what to do.
A car was waiting outside the mansion doors.
The moment Mr. Fablas approached, as if on cue, the driver came out and opened the backseat door for him. Mr. Fablas entered, followed by the old butler.
The driver shut the backseat door, returned to his driver's seat, and started up the car. The car slowly began to come to life. It smoothly drove around the large water foundation in the center of the mansion's front garden and eventually exited the gates that fenced off the parameters of the huge estate.
Its destination—Hospital A.