“My mother gave me this before she died. I never opened it until recently.”
My hands trembled when he opened it.
Inside was a medical document.
A paternity test.
My name. His name.
Result: 99.8% compatibility.
The world stopped.
“No…” I stammered, my throat tight. “It can’t be.”
Ethan looked at him without resentment.
“He is. You were my father. And Mom knew it. She never wanted to say anything because she was afraid I’d leave her.”
I felt like I was suffocating.
Every word I had said to him.
Every night I denied him a hug.
Every cold look.
And the day I kicked him out of my house… my own son.
I collapsed into a chair.
—My God… what have I done?
Ethan approached slowly.
“The same thing many parents do: forget that a child doesn’t need blood, only love.”
I put my hands to my face.
—Ethan… I have no right to ask for your forgiveness.
He was silent for a moment.
Then he said,
“I don’t need it. But there is something I want.”
-Whatever.
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