“What’s this for?” I asked, my eyes wide with excitement.
Dad shrugged with a grin. “Do I need a reason to spoil my favorite son?”
“Your only son, you mean,” Mom teased with a smile.
“All the more reason!” Dad laughed, ruffling my hair.
That’s how it had always been—just the three of us, living what felt like a perfect life. Until one day, everything changed.
It all started when I turned 18. I decided to take one of those ancestry DNA tests, the kind that tells you if you’re part Viking or something cool like that. I wasn’t expecting much; I was just curious. The results came in faster than I expected, and I was practically bouncing off the walls, refreshing my inbox every few minutes.
“Billy, you’re going to wear out the floor with all that pacing,” Mom called from the kitchen.
“Sorry, Mom! Just waiting on my DNA results!” I shouted back, too excited to stop.
Finally, the email arrived. My heart pounded as I clicked the link, excited to learn something new about myself. But what I saw changed everything.
A notification popped up: Close Relative Match—Brother. His name was Daniel.
I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and looked again. Brother? That had to be a mistake, right? I was an only child. I’d always been an only child. Confused and uneasy, I picked up the phone and called the DNA testing company.
“Hello, how can I assist you today?” came a cheerful voice.
“I, uh… I think there’s been a mistake. My results say I have a brother, but I don’t have any siblings,” I explained, hoping for a simple mix-up.
“I can assure you, sir, our tests are highly accurate. We verify all results before sending them out.”
I hung up, still in shock. How could I have a brother I didn’t know about? The thought rattled me, and I knew I had to get answers—fast.
That night, I waited for Dad to get home from work, pacing nervously in the living room. As soon as I heard the familiar sound of his car pulling into the driveway, I rushed to meet him.
“Hey, Dad, can we talk for a minute?”
He smiled warmly. “Sure, kiddo. What’s up?”
I fidgeted, unsure how to begin. “So, um, you know that DNA test I took? I got the results today… and, uh… do you know anyone named Daniel?”
The moment I said that name, the change in his expression was instant. His face went pale, and his eyes widened.
“Where did you hear that name?” he asked, lowering his voice as if to make sure Mom didn’t overhear.
I explained about the DNA test, watching his reaction closely. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he told me something I wasn’t expecting.
“Listen, Billy. Don’t tell your mom about this, okay? She doesn’t know… I had an affair years ago. Daniel must be from that. If your mom finds out, she’ll leave.”
I nodded, promising to keep quiet, but something didn’t feel right. Dad’s reaction wasn’t just guilt; it was like he was hiding something much bigger.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept staring at the test results, wondering if I should reach out to Daniel. Would that be going against Dad? My curiosity won out, and before I knew it, I had messaged him.
To my surprise, Daniel replied quickly.
“Billy? Is it really you? I’ve been waiting for this.”
We exchanged messages, and soon agreed to meet at a café the next day. I didn’t know if I was doing the right thing, but I had to know the truth.
The next morning, I told Mom I was meeting my best friend and headed out. The moment I saw Daniel, I knew. He looked just like me, like a mirror image.
“Billy?” he asked, standing up.
I nodded, speechless. We sat down, unsure where to begin, until Daniel broke the silence.
“Do you remember the lake by our old house? We’d swing on the rusty swing set and throw rocks into the water,” he said, smiling.
I shook my head, confused. “No, we never lived together. My dad says you’re the result of an affair, and I only found out about you recently.”
Daniel’s smile faded. “You think I’m the affair child? Billy, we lived together until we were five. Don’t you remember the fire?”
“Fire?” I asked, my heart racing.
“Yeah, our house burned down when we were kids. Our parents didn’t survive. You saved me, but we were split up—different adoptive families. The process kept me from contacting you.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I’m not adopted. I would know if I was.”
“I’m telling the truth, Billy. I don’t know why your adoptive parents never told you.”
The conversation left me shaken. Could it really be true? When I got home, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Daniel had said. I needed proof.
The next day, while my parents were out, I sneaked into Dad’s office and started searching. After digging through old files, I found it: documents about a lawsuit involving a fire at an apartment building—the same one Daniel had mentioned.
The papers detailed how faulty wiring, ignored by the building’s owners, had caused the fire. The owners—my adoptive parents—had taken me in to avoid a lawsuit, not out of love.
My hands shook as I read the documents. My entire life was built on a lie.
That evening, I confronted Dad.
“I didn’t know you owned that building,” I said, holding up the papers. “What happened with the fire?”
Dad tried to stay calm, but I could see the fear in his eyes.
“It was a tragedy,” he stammered. “But why are you digging this up?”
“Because I met someone who remembers the fire. Someone who says we were brothers.”
Dad’s face drained of color. He tried to explain, but I couldn’t listen. I packed a bag and left, ignoring his apologies.
Daniel welcomed me into his home that night.
“They stole you from me,” he said over dinner. “From us.”
I didn’t know how to respond. My life had been a lie, and the people I thought were my loving parents were responsible for the death of my real parents. Yet, through all the pain, I found something I never expected—a brother, and a chance at a real connection.
For that, I was grateful.
