Gemotions

"Impossible," Maya breathed, staring at the screen. The matching percentage was undeniable. Her whole life, she was a Riley. The Rileys, with their red hair and their boisterous laughter. Now, she was apparently... not. Her hands shook as she scrolled through the list of potential relatives.

She found her father, hunched over his newspaper in the living room. She watched him for a long moment, the way he held the paper, the way his brow furrowed with concentration. Suddenly, his routine seemed foreign, his presence unwelcome.

“Dad,” she said, her voice strained. She avoided his eyes. “I need to ask you something.” The words felt heavy in her mouth, laden with accusation. Her father looked up, surprised, a question mark forming on his face.