Just a DNA test. Just for fun. It started with curiosity.

After that, the results dropped a bombshell: I had a brother. His name was Daniel.

Sh0cked, I went straight to my dad. The color drained from his face when I said Daniel’s name.

“Don’t tell your mom,” he said, barely getting the words out. “She doesn’t know. It was an affair. Years ago. If she finds out, she’ll leave.”

I promised that I would stay quiet. But I couldn’t let it go.

I Took a DNA Test

I reached out to Daniel, and we met some days later. He was easygoing, warm—instantly familiar. Then he said to me something that stopped me cold:

“You remember the lake by our old house?” he asked with a smile. “We used to swing on that rusty swing set and throw rocks. Scruffy would always chase them.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve never lived near a lake. We never lived together.”

Daniel’s smile faded. “What do you mean? We lived together until we were five. You… you don’t remember?”

My stomach dropped.

“My dad said you were the a.ffa.ir child. I just found out about you this week.”

Daniel went quiet. His face shifted.

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