Gemotions

The email sat in the inbox, mocking him. He’d signed up for the DNA test on a whim, fueled by a late-night curiosity and a half-bottle of wine. Now, the results screamed at him in stark, undeniable percentages. He wasn't a Miller. He was a… a Harding. He felt a sudden, fierce heat rise in his chest, making his throat constrict. He slammed the laptop shut, the metallic clang echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. He didn’t want to answer the phone when his mother called, but he knew he couldn’t ignore her. The prospect of the conversation was enough to make his stomach churn. He didn't want her pity.