He never returned to school. When I went to his house that afternoon, there was a “FOR SALE” sign in the yard. His family was gone.
That was the story I had lived with for eighteen years.
Now, Leo stared at the table.
“I need you to not… be mad at me.”
“Honey,” I said, “I’m not promising anything until I know what this is about.”
He swallowed. “I took one of those DNA tests.”
For a moment, I just stared at him.
“You did what?”
“I know,” he rushed. “I should’ve told you. I just… wanted to find him. Or someone connected to him. Maybe a cousin, an aunt—anyone who could tell me why he left.”
The pain came quickly—not because he searched, but because he did it alone.
“Leo…” I said softly.continue reading …
