Out of curiosity, I took a DNA test and found out that I have a brother. When I spoke to my father about it, he started lying. Then I decided to meet my brother in person and find out everything. We met in a cafe.
“Do you remember the lake near the old house? And our dog?” he asked suddenly.
“No,” I answered, confused. “We didn’t live together. I just found out about you.”
He fell silent. And then, quietly, he said:
“They didn’t tell you who they really were?” he asked quietly.
– No.
– So you don’t remember that day either? 😲😲
Continued in the article under the photo 👇👇
My name is Billy. Until recently, I was sure that I lived in a fairy tale. An only child, surrounded by boundless parental love.
On my 18th birthday I decided to take a DNA test. Just out of curiosity – to find out how much Scandinavian or Celtic I have, maybe a little exotic.
I didn’t even think that the results could be like this.
And then the letter with the results arrived. I opened the letter and froze.
“Close relationship found: Daniel is a brother (100% match on the paternal and maternal lines).”
Brother? That’s a mistake. I’m the only one in the family. Always have been. I didn’t even know anyone named Daniel.
I decided to talk to my father.
“Dad, can I talk to you?” I asked.
– Of course, what happened?
– Remember when I did the DNA test? The results came back today… Dad, do you know anyone named Daniel?
Father turned pale.
“Where did you hear that name?” he whispered, as if he was afraid someone would overhear.
I told him the results. He did not remain silent.
– Son, please don’t tell your mother. I… had an affair. Many years ago.
I nodded. But deep down, something didn’t add up. He was talking, but not explaining.
I couldn’t resist. I wrote to Daniel. He responded almost instantly.
“Billy? You’re alive?! I can’t believe it… Do you remember me?”
The next morning I went to the meeting. I found Daniel right away.
“Billy?” he asked, standing up with a smile.
I just nodded.
“Remember the lake near the old house? And Scruffy the dog?” he asked suddenly.
“No,” I answered, confused. “We didn’t live together. I just found out about you.”
– You saved me. Then, in the fire. Our house burned down. Our parents… they didn’t survive. You and I were separated. You were adopted, I was sent to another family. I was forbidden to contact. I was looking for you.
“No…” I whispered. “I wasn’t adopted. I lived with my mom and dad since I was a baby. Always.”
“They didn’t tell you who they really were?” he asked quietly.
I left there as if in a dream. I didn’t know what to believe.
But the next day, when my parents were away, I made up my mind. I snuck into my dad’s office and started rummaging through the documents.
And I found them. Old lawsuits. About a fire. In the house where Daniel and I lived. And the signatures of my parents, the owners of the building.
A fire broke out because of faulty wiring that they refused to fix.
Our parents
died. And me… they adopted me. Not out of love. But to cover their tracks. To save yourself from jail.
In the evening I was waiting for them downstairs. The newspaper with the clipping about the fire lay in front of me.
– Dad, tell me about it. – I pointed to the article. – You were the owner, right?
He turned pale, just like that day.
– Why are you digging into the past? It was a long time ago. An accident.
– I met the one who survived. Daniel.
Pause. Silence. Everything was clear without words.
I went upstairs, packed my things and left. Daniel was waiting for me outside. And although there was a lifelong journey ahead, I knew who I wanted to walk it with.
With someone who is truly a part of me.
