Gemotions

The sterile white of the hospital room felt suffocating. Liam sat beside his mother's bed, the DNA results crumpled in his pocket. It felt like a trap, this information, a barbed hook that had snagged him and pulled him under. He’d always believed he was the spitting image of his father. Now, the resemblance was a cruel illusion.

He looked at his mother, her face etched with the lines of time and regret. She hadn't said anything yet, hadn't acknowledged the elephant in the room. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. He’d spent his life trying to please, to be the perfect son. Now, he wanted to see her squirm.

"You feeling any better, Mom?" he asked, his voice deliberately casual. He watched her. She finally looked at him. The way her eyes darted away gave him a strange, almost satisfying feeling of control. He knew this would destroy her, and he wanted it to. But he wouldn’t be the one to say the word that would break her.