But the truth was much simpler.
For the first time in years, I wasn't sure I believed the story I'd been told.
Three weeks later, the results arrived.
I expected the report to prove I had lost my mind.
Advertisement
Instead, it destroyed everything I thought I knew.
I opened the email alone at my kitchen table. The house was quiet, and for a brief moment, I considered waiting for Daniel to get home. Then I reminded myself how ridiculous this entire situation was.
The test would finally put an end to all of it.
The similarities.
The questions.
The conversation I overheard at Thanksgiving.
Advertisement
I clicked the report and began reading.
At first, nothing seemed unusual. Then I reached the conclusion.
I read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
The words never changed.
The results weren't what I expected.
Advertisement
Instead of giving me answers, they raised even more questions. Several markers didn't align the way I thought they would, and the report recommended additional testing to confirm biological relationships.
