THE TWINS THAT WEREN’T MINE

I never imagined my life would turn into a nightmare. Yet, there I was, gripping the chair as the doctor’s words shattered everything.

“Mr. Carter, you are not their father.”

I laughed, confused. “That’s impossible.”

Dr. Peterson hesitated. “Your DNA matches, but not as their father. These boys are your half-brothers.”

The room spun. My half-brothers. Which meant—

I stormed home, my mind racing. Nancy stood in the kitchen, smiling. “Did you get the results?”

I swallowed hard. “Did you sleep with my father?”

The knife slipped from her hands. She paled. “W-what?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. “I didn’t know! It was before we met. I was young, working at a bar. He told me his name was James. I never imagined—”

James. My father.

I staggered back, disgusted. My father had slept with my wife before I even knew her. The twins weren’t mine, but had anything changed? I had raised them, loved them. They were my sons.

I needed answers. I confronted my father, throwing the test results at him.

He sighed. “I suspected it when they were born. But you were happy. They are yours, in every way that matters.”

I left before I did something I’d regret.

The betrayal stung, but I believed Nancy. The love I had for my boys didn’t change. As for my father? I haven’t spoken to him since.

Family isn’t about DNA. It’s about love, who stays, and who shows up.

And no piece of paper could ever take that away.

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