I called Daniel and asked if I could live with him for a few days, and he agreed.
I remember how Dad kept apologizing as I left the house, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him. Daniel welcomed me into his house, and we had dinner together.
“They stole you from me,” he said as we ate. “From us.”
I didn’t know how to respond.
All I knew was that my whole life had been a lie, and the people I thought were my loving parents were actually the ones responsible for the death of my real parents.
But as I sat there, I realized this tragedy led me to a real connection. It made me meet my brother, who had been waiting for me all these years. And I felt grateful for that.
