My husband refused to do a DNA test for our daughter’s school project – so I did it behind his back, and the results prompted me to call the police.

“We will not do that.”

“Greg, you’re letting a loudspeaker listen to you complain about your virtual football league.”

He shook his head, his jaw clenched.

“It’s different, Sue.”

“What do you mean? It’s for school.”

“Because I’m telling you, forget it.”

Tiffany’s face fell. She dropped the cotton swab.

“It’s for school.”

“Is it because you don’t love me?” she asked.

“No, baby, of course not,” I said, taking a step towards her.

But Greg didn’t say a word. He picked up the pencil case, crushed it , and threw it in the trash. Then he turned and left the room.

That night, my daughter fell asleep crying.

**

Greg didn’t say a word.

When you spend years undergoing IVF — appointments, injections and hopes that don’t last long — you learn to know your partner very well.

I gave the injections, Greg took care of the paperwork. He said it was his way of “participating”.

I remember his hand on my knee in the parking lot, when I couldn’t stop crying.

**

But something in him changed after the DNA sampling incident.

That night, while Tiffany was sleeping, Greg grabbed my wrist as I reached for the trash can.