When I looked up from the paper, my mother was standing in the doorway.
I hadn’t heard her come in.
She didn’t look ashamed.
She didn’t look surprised.
She just looked… tired.
“You weren’t supposed to see that,” she said.
My voice came out hollow.
“Explain.”
She stepped inside slowly.
“I had an affair,” she said. “Years ago. Before you were born.”
The room felt like it tilted.
“Jonathan never knew,” she continued. “Or maybe he suspected. I don’t know.”
I gripped the papers tighter.
“What does this have to do with my son?”
Her eyes flickered.
“Because genetics doesn’t forget, Michael.”
The realization hit me like a punch.
“No.”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
“The condition they found—it runs in his family.”
My throat went dry.
“In your biological father’s family.”
