That DNA test I took by chance taught me one thing – that life would never be the same.
Being an only child meant I was kind of spoiled. My parents always showered me with gifts and attention and I loved the life I had.
The three of us made the perfect family, or at least that’s what I thought so.
On my 18th birthday, I decided to treat myself with a DNA test, the one that tells you if you’re certain percentage from Scandinavian ancestry or whatever. I took it just for fun, not realizing it will reveal a much deeper truth; one that was hard to swallow.
While I was waiting for the results, I kept refreshing my email.
“Honey, what are you so excited about?” I heard my mom yelling from downstairs.
“It’s nothing, mom, I’m just messing around,” I answered.
But when the results finally came, I was shocked. It said there was a close match with someone named Daniel. So close, that the results suggested he was my brother.
Certain it was just a mistake, I called the company’s helpline but they assured me the results were accurate.
Not knowing what to do, I decided to speak to the only person I trusted the most, and likely the only person who could provide me with something more about this revelation – my father.
The moment I heard his car pulling in the driveway, I rushed towards him. “Dad, do you have a second. There is something I want to ask you,” I said quietly, not knowing what to expect.
“Of course, son,” he said, as he gave me a hug.
“Dad, do you remember that DNA test I told you about?” I asked, as my dad nodded. “It turns out I have a brother, someone named Daniel.”
Before saying anything, my dad looked around, making sure mom was out of sight.
“Look son, let this be our little secret. Years ago, I had an affair,” my dad said while I listened in disbelief, knowing he wasn’t that kind of person. “Please don’t ever bring this topic again. If your mom find out, she’s leave me.”
I was stunned at his confession. He tried to convince me that our family’s happiness depended on my silence, and I agreed to let it go.
However, something deep down told me there was more to the story, and despite my dad’s pleas, I contacted Daniel though the social media.
He answered right away.
“Billy, is that really you?” he wrote, and it sounded as he already knew I existed, which confused my brain even more.
The following day we met at a cafe not far from my home. The moment I saw him I knew it was him, my brother, because it felt like I was looking at a mirror. We resembled one another so much.
“Hey, Billy, do you remember how much fun we had by the lake near our old house?” he asked me. “And how we threw stones in the water?”
Listening to him, I said to myself, “this guy is speaking nonsense.” However, as I didn’t want to be rude, I said i didn’t remember any of it because it never happened.
“What do you mean, buddy,” Daniel said. “We lived together until you were three or four, and then the house burnt down and our mom and dad died. You got adopted and I ended up in foster care.”
“But… but my dad says you are the affair child,” I said quietly.
“That’s not true Billy. I’m your real brother. Don’t you remember the fire?” he asked again.
One thing I was certain of was that I couldn’t be adopted. My mom and dad loved me too much to hide something like that from me. But why would Daniel lie?
When I returned home, I went straight to my dad’s office. I was aware I was violating his personal space, but I needed to learn the truth.
In one of the drawers, I found old documents.
It turned out that who I believe were my parents were actually the owners of the place that burned and killed my parents. They ignored complaints about defective wiring to avoid expensive repairs, and that was how the fire started.
In order to avoid lawsuits, they adopted me.
Reading through those documents made my world spun. My legs felt shaky and I could barely breath.
But still, I found the courage to confront who I believed were my mom and dad.
When they got home from work, I asked them about the fire.
“What fire?” my dad asked, as though he had no idea what I was talking about.
My mom started crying, but I avoided her glance.
They came up with a bunch of explanations; how they wanted to protect me and keep me safe. But I wasn’t willing to listen.
I went upstairs and packed all of my belongings, or at least what could fit in a single suitcase. I spent the night at Daniel’s place, and he assured me I could stay with him for as long as I wanted.
Had it not been for that seemingly harmless DNA test, I would have never learned the truth about my life.
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Bored Daddy
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