A Stranger Claimed to Be My Half-Brother, I Didn’t Believe Him Until My Mother Confessed

Living a quiet life with her son, Jasmine never expected a message from a stranger to shake her world. But when a man named Robert claimed to be her half-brother, she found herself uncovering secrets buried deep in her family’s past.

I’m a single mother of a 15-year-old boy, Ethan, and everything was going well in my life until the day I met my best friend, Ellen.

A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney

We’ve been friends for over a decade now and there’s nothing like a night out with her to recharge me. We were at our favorite restaurant, catching up on life between mouthfuls of pasta and sips of wine, when Ellen slid her phone out of her bag.

“So,” Ellen smirked, “you’ll love this. I got a new batch of message requests on Facebook last night. Some of them are just ridiculous.”

She scrolled through her messages with a smile.

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

“Oh my god, Jas, listen to this one!” She snorted. “‘Your eyes are like the ocean, and baby, I’m lost at sea.’ Who even writes these anymore?”

I nearly choked on my wine. “Please tell me that’s not from the engineer guy who sent you a friend request last week!”

“Worse! It’s some dude who claims to be a ‘cryptocurrency entrepreneur.’” Ellen made air quotes, rolling her eyes. “You should see the messages I get. Come on, check yours! I bet your inbox is full of gems too.”

A woman laughing in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A woman laughing in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Please, Ellen. Who’s messaging a boring oldie like me? Half the time I can’t even figure out how to use these apps!”

“Just check your message requests!” Ellen reached across the table, grabbing my phone. “Look, you have unread messages. Come on, humor me!”

“Alright, alright,” I said with a dramatic sigh as I took my phone back. “But I’m telling you it’s just going to be spa—”

The words died in my throat as I read the most recent message.

A woman reading her messages | Source: Pexels

A woman reading her messages | Source: Pexels

Hi Jasmine. I know this may sound odd to you, but I think you’re my half-sister.

“What is it?” Ellen leaned forward.

“Some guy named Robert…” I showed her the message. “Says he’s my half-brother.”

Ellen burst out laughing. “Is that supposed to be a pickup line? Because that’s a weird one!”

I tried to laugh it off. “Is this some new dating trend? Pretend you’re family to get attention?”

“Who knows?” Ellen chuckled. “Maybe he thinks being your long-lost sibling will make him irresistible.”

A woman laughing in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

A woman laughing in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney

We both laughed it off and finished our meals, but something about the message stuck with me. The tone didn’t have the typical goofiness of a flirty message. It felt serious.

Ellen moved on, chatting about her weekend plans, but my mind kept circling back to those words.

Half-sister? I thought and felt curious to know more about that man.

That night, after tucking Ethan in and double-checking his homework was done, I sat on my couch in the quiet of my living room.

Robert’s message pulled me back to Facebook.

A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney

I clicked over to his profile and scrolled through his photos. He looked like he was in his late 40s, with a warm, genuine smile.

In one of the pictures, he was standing with his wife and kids. My eyes widened when I looked at his daughter.

Her eyes were just like my mother’s. The same unique shape and soft expression.

Could it be? I thought. Was this even remotely possible?

I took a deep breath and opened his message again. My fingers trembled as I typed a response.

A woman typing a message | Source: Unsplash

A woman typing a message | Source: Unsplash

Hi Robert, I don’t know you, but… what are you talking about?

I hit send and stared at the message. I knew it was probably some mistake or strange coincidence, but I couldn’t push it out of my mind.

I tried to distract myself with Netflix but kept checking my phone. I couldn’t even sleep that night because my mind kept racing with questions.

What if he was telling the truth? I thought. How could that even be possible?

A woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney

The next morning, I woke up to Robert’s reply. It was a long message, and I could feel my heart pounding as I read it.

He mentioned my mother, Martha, by name, and included details of where she was born and even where she lives now. He claimed Mom had given him up for adoption soon after he was born.

It felt too specific to be random, but my inner skeptic wasn’t convinced just yet.

What if he’s just some stranger trying to scam me? I thought.

I immediately thought of talking to Ellen. I called her and she picked up like she was waiting for my call.

A woman talking to her friend | Source: Pexels

A woman talking to her friend | Source: Pexels

“Hey, so, remember that guy, Robert?” I asked. “I, uh, I messaged him back last night.”

“You what?” Ellen was shocked. “Seriously, Jas? What did he say?”

“Seems like he’s serious about it,” I replied, pacing the living room. “He knows Mom’s name, her birth details, and even where she lives. And he told me Mom placed him for adoption soon after he was born.”

“Jas, this sounds sketchy,” Ellen said. “Ask him for more details. Like, why now? And what about his adoption? I mean, anyone could dig up basic information, but only someone who actually knows would have the adoption details, right?”

A worried woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A worried woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

She was right. Following her advice, I texted him back, asking specific questions about his adoption. Then, I put my phone away and tried to focus on my day.

Later that evening, I checked my phone. Robert had responded with more information about his adoption including the year, the location, and even the name of the adoption agency.

The adoption year he mentioned was three years before my mother married my dad. That timeline would actually make sense if he was telling the truth.

A man writing a message | Source: Pexels

A man writing a message | Source: Pexels

However, I wasn’t ready to dive in headfirst. I messaged him back, saying I’d get back to him. Then, I spent the next two days scrolling through his profile, looking at his photos, and studying his family.

I was looking for any sign to prove this was a scam, but I didn’t find anything.

Finally, on the second night, I took a deep breath and texted him, saying I’d be willing to meet.

He responded quickly, and we arranged to meet at a small café I often visited.

A café | Source: Pexels

A café | Source: Pexels

The café was quiet when I arrived early the next morning. Then Robert walked in, and I knew. His eyes looked like mine. We looked so similar.

We exchanged a nervous smile as he sat down across from me.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said softly. “I know this is unusual.”

“How did you find me?” I asked.

That’s when Robert began his story. He shared how he’d grown up knowing he was adopted. His adoptive parents were nice to him, so he never tried looking for his birth family out of respect for them.

A boy with his father | Source: Pexels

A boy with his father | Source: Pexels

But things changed two years ago when his adoptive father passed away. Then, he lost his adoptive mother eight months ago.

“I spent weeks just lost,” he said. “They were my entire world. After losing my mom, I started wondering about my biological roots. I suddenly wanted to know about my birth parents.”

He explained that he first tried getting information from the adoption agency but with no luck. He tried other avenues, but each attempt led to a dead end.

A man talking to his half-sister | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to his half-sister | Source: Midjourney

“Taking an ancestry DNA test was the only option left,” he told me. “I was stunned when the results said I had a half-sister.”

“It was surreal,” he continued, glancing at me. “I spent two weeks just debating whether to contact you. I was worried about what it might mean for you. But eventually, I decided I had to reach out. I needed to know.”

As he spoke, my mother’s image kept flashing through my mind. Why would she keep this secret for so long? Why wouldn’t she tell me?

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

Robert finished by expressing his desire to meet our mother. I told him I’d talk to her and get back to him.

The next day, I left Ethan with Ellen and drove four hours to Mom’s house. The familiar two-story colonial looked exactly the same, but everything else felt different.

Mom was tending her roses when I pulled up.

“Jasmine! What a surprise!” Her smile faded when she saw my expression. “Honey? What’s wrong?”

“We need to talk, Mom,” I said.

I told her everything once we settled in the living room.

An older woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

An older woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

“Someone contacted me, Mom,” I began. “His name is Robert, and he says he’s my half-brother.”

Mom looked at me with eyes wide open and her hands started to shake.

“Is it true?” I asked quietly. “Mom, you need to tell me the truth. Please.”

She tried denying it at first. “I don’t know what you’re…”

“Mom, please stop!” I yelled. “I know everything. Just tell me the truth!”

A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

Tears filled her eyes as she sank onto the couch.

“I was so young when I met Daniel,” she whispered. “I thought he was my everything. He was charming, romantic, and exciting. But then…”

“Then what?”

“He had his struggles,” Mom continued. “With addiction. I thought I could help him change but he only spiraled deeper. And in the middle of it, I found out I was pregnant.”

I couldn’t believe it. I was furious.

“You had a child with a man you never told me about?” I asked.

A woman looking at her mother | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her mother | Source: Midjourney

Mom nodded. “But I knew I couldn’t raise him. I couldn’t bring a child into that chaos.”

“So, you gave him up? And never told anyone? Not even Dad?”

“I found a couple who wanted a child, who could give him the life I couldn’t,” she continued. “I left town, started fresh, and met your dad at my new job as a cashier. He was so stable and kind. And I wanted a fresh start with him. I couldn’t tell him anything.”

A worried woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

A worried woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

“But you could’ve told him later Mom!” I argued. “Why did you keep it a secret all these years?”

“I was ashamed, Jasmine,” she explained. “I was afraid the darkness of my past would make me lose everything.”

I sat back, trying to process it all.

All these years, I thought, she kept this buried, not even trusting me with her truth.

“What about Ethan?” I asked. “What would he think?”

A woman speaking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

A woman speaking to her mother | Source: Midjourney

“Jasmine, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she held my hand. “I kept this from you because I thought I could spare you the pain. And once it was buried, I was terrified to dig it up again.”

I noticed the guilt etched on Mom’s face as she spoke. My anger slowly started to fade as I realized she had been carrying this along for too long.

She admitted that she’d never tried to reconnect with Robert because she felt she had no right. She feared disrupting his life, thinking it would only confuse and hurt him.

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

She also told me she visited different adoption agencies on special days like Robert’s birthday, Children’s Day, and other special occasions when I wasn’t around.

She offered emotional support to birth mothers considering adoption. It was her way of remembering him, and of processing the pain she’d buried.

“I didn’t know,” I murmured as tears trickled down my cheeks. “You never told me.”

“I didn’t want you to see this side of me,” she sobbed. “But I’ve been haunted by it every day.”

A woman looking at her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at her daughter | Source: Midjourney

In that moment, my heart broke for her, and for everything she’d carried alone. I wrapped my arms around her as she cried.

I couldn’t believe my mom had pretended to be okay for decades after losing a baby. She had made a painful sacrifice for all of us.

I needed a day to process everything before I decided what to do next.

The next day, I called Robert and told him I’d spoken to our mother.

“You think I should meet her?” he asked. “I mean… it’s going to be emotional.”

A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

“Take your time,” I replied. “Think about it.”

Later, that evening, I sat down with Ethan. He was only fifteen, but he deserved to know the truth about his new uncle. I wasn’t sure how he’d take it, so I tried to keep things as simple as possible.

“Hey buddy, there’s something you need to know about our family…” I said.

I explained everything and felt so surprised to see how calmly he handled everything.

Three days later, Robert agreed to meet Mom. We chose a quiet park for the meeting.

Metal fence in a park | Source: Pexels

Metal fence in a park | Source: Pexels

The initial moments were awkward. Mom’s guilt made her hesitant to even call herself Robert’s mother. Meanwhile, Robert stood back, uncertain about his decision.

But the tension began to ease as they talked.

“Robert, I’m… so sorry.” Mom looked down at her hands. “I know I hurt you by giving you up and by keeping you in the dark for so long. I thought… I thought it was the right thing to do at the time.”

Robert took a deep breath.

A man looking at his mother | Source: Midjourney

A man looking at his mother | Source: Midjourney

“I don’t know if I can say I understand, but, uh, I’m glad I know the truth now.” He paused, the weight of his own words settling in. “Thank you for meeting me.”

They talked for a while before it was time to say goodbye. I almost cried when I saw them hug. They held each other for the first time after decades and the relief on their faces was evident.

Driving home, Mom reached over and squeezed my hand.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For understanding. For helping me find closure. And… for forgiving me.”

A woman smiling in a car | Source: Midjourney

A woman smiling in a car | Source: Midjourney

I smiled at her.

“I love you, Mom,” I said. “And I’ll always be there for you.”

Life isn’t simple anymore. But maybe it’s better this way. It’s messier, and more complicated, but it’s more real.

I’m just happy our family is finally complete now.

A woman holding her mother's hand | Source: Pexels

A woman holding her mother’s hand | Source: Pexels

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: When David demanded a DNA test for their son, Amelia knew their marriage was on the edge. But what the results uncovered went far beyond paternity. It revealed a shocking twist that would forever alter David’s relationship with his mother.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

Volví a mi ciudad natal con mi hijo, pero mis viejos amigos lo miraban con cara de asombro – Solo más tarde supe por qué

Cuando mi ex y yo nos separamos, elegí ser madre soltera mediante donación de esperma, así que estaba segura de saber de dónde venía mi hijo. Pero cuando volvimos a mi ciudad natal, la forma en que mis antiguos amigos lo miraban me hizo revolver el estómago.

Los papeles del divorcio ni siquiera estaban fríos cuando decidí que quería un bebé. Ni marido, ni novio. Sólo un pequeño ser humano al que pudiera llamar mío.

Después de que mi ex, Ethan, dejara claro que nunca querría tener hijos y pidiera la separación, el camino a seguir parecía obvio. Seguiría siendo madre. Aunque fuera por mi cuenta.

Una pareja al borde del divorcio | Fuente: Pexels

Una pareja al borde del divorcio | Fuente: Pexels

“¿En serio vas a seguir adelante con esto?”, me preguntó mi amiga Olivia desde su sitio en el sofá, mientras me veía hojear los perfiles de los donantes. “Chica, sólo tienes 28 años”.

“Y envejeciendo por momentos”. Hice clic en otro perfil. “Además, el donante adecuado podría aparecer cualquier día”.

“El donante adecuado”, resopló. “Como si elegir al padre de tu hijo fuera como comprar por Internet”.

Una mujer en un sofá | Fuente: Pexels

Una mujer en un sofá | Fuente: Pexels

“Mejor que mi historial de citas”, suspiré, y cerré el portátil, frotándome los ojos cansados. “Al menos a estos hombres se les hace una preselección de enfermedades genéticas y antecedentes penales. Más de lo que puedo decir de mi ex”.

“Tienes razón”, asintió Olivia y me tendió una lata de refresco. “Pero, ¿y el amor? ¿No quieres que tu hijo tenga un padre?”

“Me tendrá a mí. Con eso basta”.

Le di un sorbo a mi Coca-Cola mientras recordaba la cara de Ethan cuando le había mencionado a los niños. La forma en que había retrocedido como si le hubiera sugerido mudarnos a Marte.

Una mujer bebiendo refresco | Fuente: Pexels

Una mujer bebiendo refresco | Fuente: Pexels

“Además, muchos niños crecen felices con padres solteros”.

***

La página web del banco de esperma se convirtió en mi ritual nocturno. 1,80 m, pelo castaño, licenciado en medicina. Traté esta búsqueda como la construcción del hombre de mis sueños, salvo que éste sólo aportaría ADN.

Sin relaciones turbias, sin decepciones, sin Ethans. Sólo el regalo de la vida, envuelto en un vaso de muestras estéril.

Una mujer con su portátil | Fuente: Pexels

Una mujer con su portátil | Fuente: Pexels

Jude, mi mejor amigo desde siempre, me apoyó en todo. Incluso me ayudó a hacer las maletas cuando decidí mudarme de estado para empezar de nuevo.

“¿Connecticut?” Cerró otra caja con cinta adhesiva, con la frente arrugada por la preocupación. “Eso es prácticamente Canadá”.

“Es donde creció mi madre. Le encantaba. Podría estar bien. No tendría familia cerca, pero necesito empezar de nuevo”. Rotulé la caja “Cocina – Frágil” con trazos gruesos de rotulador.

Una mujer escribiendo en una caja en movimiento | Fuente: Pexels

Una mujer escribiendo en una caja en movimiento | Fuente: Pexels

“Sí, pero…”, empezó mientras jugueteaba con la cinta de embalar. “¿Y si necesitas ayuda? ¿Con el bebé?”

“Para eso están las niñeras”, dije y golpeé su hombro con el mío. “Deja de preocuparte tanto”.

Jude era una de las mejores partes de mi vida, y mi fiesta de despedida fue idea suya. Tenía los pies en la tierra y era de fiar, a diferencia de Olivia, que seguía teniendo un lado salvaje. Aunque también la quería.

Gente reunida en una cocina | Fuente: Pexels

Gente reunida en una cocina | Fuente: Pexels

Pero mirando al pasado, debería haber sabido que no debía dejarla mezclar las bebidas. Por suerte, mientras la noche pasaba de la risa al llanto, Jude se mantuvo cerca.

Se aseguró de que no me cayera de bruces sobre el pastel de despedida.

“No me puedo creer que te vayas de verdad”, balbuceó Olivia, abrazándome por décima vez. “¿Quién va a ser mi colega de los miércoles de Netflix?”

“FaceTime existe por algo”, dije, apoyándome en la encimera de la cocina de Jude. La habitación había empezado a dar vueltas en algún momento.

Una sala de fiestas borrosa | Fuente: Pexels

Una sala de fiestas borrosa | Fuente: Pexels

“Prométeme que no nos olvidarás cuando vivas tu lujosa vida al norte del estado”, dijo Jude más tarde, acompañándome a la puerta. De repente, noté que su brazo alrededor de mi cintura se sentía cálido y seguro.

Entonces, lo que ocurrió a continuación aún me visita en sueños.

***

A la semana siguiente, me sometí al procedimiento de inseminación y dejé atrás Atlanta.

Un médico | Fuente: Pexels

Un médico | Fuente: Pexels

Nueve meses después, Alan vino al mundo gritando, con la cara roja y perfecto. Su primer grito perforó algo muy dentro de mí y desató un amor que no sabía que existía.

Pasaron ocho años y, aunque era agotador, supe que había nacido para ser madre. Mi hijo se convirtió en un niño inteligente y divertido que hacía demasiadas preguntas y se reía de sus propios chistes.

La vida era buena, sencilla. Nuestra pequeña familia de dos se sentía completa. Entonces mi madre enfermó y tuve que volver.

Una madre con su hijo en brazos | Fuente: Pexels

Una madre con su hijo en brazos | Fuente: Pexels

“Nos vamos a Atlanta una temporada”, le dije a Alan mientras comíamos pizza. Tenía la cara embadurnada de salsa, como siempre. “¿Recuerdas dónde creció mamá?”

Se lo tomó mejor de lo esperado, entusiasmado con la aventura. “¿Podré conocer a tus viejos amigos?”

“Claro que sí, colega”, le dije y le limpié la cara con una servilleta. “Y la abuela necesita nuestra ayuda durante algún tiempo”.

“Genial. ¿Puedo terminarme tu corteza?”

Un niño comiendo pizza | Fuente: Pexels

Un niño comiendo pizza | Fuente: Pexels

***

No había planeado quedarme mucho tiempo, sólo el suficiente para ayudar a mamá en su recuperación. Pero al caminar por aquellas calles familiares, algo cambió.

Alan necesitaba raíces y familia. Algo más que yo. Además, no me había dado cuenta de que me había ido por todo lo que había pasado con Ethan.

Pero ahora que había vuelto, me di cuenta: Había huido de los recuerdos de mi relación fallida, así que quizá había llegado el momento de volver a establecerme en mi verdadero hogar.

Vista de una ciudad | Fuente: Pexels

Vista de una ciudad | Fuente: Pexels

Salvo que… empezó a ocurrir algo extraño. Susurros. Empezaron en la tienda de comestibles. La Sra. Henderson, que seguía atendiendo la misma caja registradora después de tantos años, dejó caer su escáner cuando vio a Alan.

“¡Dios mío!”, susurró mientras se llevaba la mano a la boca. “¿Es tu…?”

“Mi hijo, Alan”. Le di un codazo. “Saluda, cariño”.

“Hola”, murmuró Alan, repentinamente tímido. “Su tienda tiene buenos helados”.

Un niño feliz | Fuente: Pexels

Un niño feliz | Fuente: Pexels

Se quedó mirándolo como si le hubiera crecido una segunda cabeza, y no fue la única.

A lo largo de la semana se sucedieron reacciones similares. Antiguos compañeros de clase nos veían, nos miraban dos veces y se apresuraban a alejarse susurrando.

Michael, mi antiguo compañero de laboratorio, tropezó con sus propios pies cuando nos cruzamos con él en el parque.

“Tus amigos son raros, mamá”, dijo Alan después de otro encuentro incómodo. “Me miran raro”.

Un niño al aire libre | Fuente: Pexels

Un niño al aire libre | Fuente: Pexels

“Son gente de pueblo, cariño. No están acostumbrados a las caras nuevas”.

“¿Tengo algo en la cara?”, preguntó y se frotó la mejilla cohibido.

“No, cariño. Estás perfecto tal como eres”.

Pero algo no iba bien. Las miradas y las expresiones de asombro me crispaban los nervios. Sin embargo, me olvidé de ello porque mi madre necesitaba cada vez más atención.

Mujer mayor con una cánula nasal | Fuente: Pexels

Mujer mayor con una cánula nasal | Fuente: Pexels

Entonces llegó el festival de verano. Llevé a Alan y ambos disfrutamos del olor a algodón de azúcar y maíz asado. Me sentí mal porque nos habíamos mudado a Atlanta justo al principio del verano y Alan no había tenido ocasión de hacer amigos, cosa que era más fácil en la escuela.

“¿Amelia?” Una voz familiar me detuvo. “¿Eres tú de verdad?”

Jude estaba allí de pie. Parecía mayor, pero seguía teniendo la misma sonrisa torcida. Sin embargo, una mujer preciosa y elegante le sujetaba del brazo, e inmediatamente vi su anillo de casada al captar y reflejar la luz del sol.

Una mujer rubia al aire libre | Fuente: Pexels

Una mujer rubia al aire libre | Fuente: Pexels

A pesar de todo, volví a centrarme en mi amigo. El tiempo había sido bueno con él. Sólo tenía algunas canas en las sienes y líneas de expresión alrededor de los ojos, pero seguía siendo innegablemente Jude.

“¡Jude, hola!”, dije, intentando actuar con despreocupación, pero el corazón me latía con fuerza. “Ésta debe de ser Eleanor. He oído hablar mucho de ti por amigos comunes”.

Hicimos las típicas galanterías, pero los ojos curiosos de mi amiga pronto se desviaron hacia Alan, que estaba ocupado devorando un perrito de maíz.

“Éste es Alan”, dije, sintiéndome más relajada. “Mi hijo”.

Niño sonriendo | Fuente: Pexels

Niño sonriendo | Fuente: Pexels

Eleanor sonrió cálidamente pero frunció el ceño, y Jude parecía haber visto un fantasma.

Fue entonces cuando me di cuenta: Los revoltosos rizos castaños de Alan, la forma en que arrugaba la nariz al reír, incluso cómo permanecía de pie con una cadera ladeada… era la viva imagen de Jude a aquella edad.

¿Por qué no lo había visto antes?

“¿Cómo…?” A Jude se le quebró la voz. “¿Cuántos años tiene?”

Un hombre al aire libre | Fuente: Pexels

Un hombre al aire libre | Fuente: Pexels

“Ocho”, exhalé, aún aturdida por la noticia. Sabía ese número, por supuesto, porque me hice el procedimiento aquí, justo antes de irme.

Pero había sido después de mi fiesta de despedida y de las copas de Olivia.

“Mamá, ¿me das otro perrito de maíz?” Alan me tiró de la manga, ajeno a la bomba que acababa de detonar en nuestro pequeño círculo. “¿Por favor? Prometo que me comeré las verduras en la cena”.

Un perrito de maíz | Fuente: Pexels

Un perrito de maíz | Fuente: Pexels

“Claro, cariño”.

Eleanor se excusó para ir a por bebidas, pero apretó el brazo de Jude antes de alejarse.

“Tenemos que hablar”, dijo Jude, que seguía mirando a Alan como si intentara memorizar cada detalle.

“Sí”, dije mientras veía a mi hijo correr hacia el puesto de perritos de maíz. Su pelo, con los rizos de Jude, rebotaba en la brisa veraniega. “Supongo que sí”.

Puesto de comida en una feria | Fuente: Pexels

Puesto de comida en una feria | Fuente: Pexels

“¿Él…?” Jude tragó saliva. “Quiero decir, ¿le has hablado de su padre?”

“Cree que fue un donante” -respondí, negando con la cabeza-. Era lo que yo también pensaba. “Nunca imaginé… Quiero decir, el momento…”

“La fiesta”, dijo Jude, pasándose una mano por el pelo. “Dios, Amelia. ¿Por qué no me llamaste?”

“Te juro que no lo sabía. De verdad que no lo sabía. Me sometí a la operación la semana siguiente, tal y como había planeado. Cuando nació, lo supuse… y luego, estaba tan absorta en instalarme en un lugar nuevo, y como madre… por eso todo el mundo le ha estado mirando raro”.

Una mujer al aire libre preocupada | Fuente: Pexels

Una mujer al aire libre preocupada | Fuente: Pexels

La risa de Alan resonó por todo el recinto del festival, y sonreí.

Después, Jude y yo acordamos casi de inmediato una cosa: hacernos una prueba, para estar seguros. El resto lo resolveríamos después de los resultados.

Nos la hicimos, y las respuestas llegarían en dos semanas. Sabía que Jude querría formar parte de la vida de Alan si las pruebas demostraban la paternidad, y quizá eso fuera una bendición.

Viales para pruebas médicas | Fuente: Pexels

Viales para pruebas médicas | Fuente: Pexels

Porque Jude siempre había sido el bueno, el responsable, el amigo que nunca defraudaba a nadie. Por supuesto, querría ser un padre para su hijo. No sabía si a su esposa le haría gracia.

Pero en cualquier caso, mi perfectamente planeada vida de madre soltera parecía a punto de cambiar de nuevo, y esta vez no iba a huir.

A veces las mejores historias son las que nunca quisimos escribir.

Madre e hijo | Fuente: Pexels

Madre e hijo | Fuente: Pexels

Esta obra se inspira en hechos y personas reales, pero se ha ficcionalizado con fines creativos. Se han cambiado nombres, personajes y detalles para proteger la intimidad y mejorar la narración. Cualquier parecido con personas reales, vivas o muertas, o con hechos reales es pura coincidencia y no es intención del autor.

El autor y el editor no garantizan la exactitud de los acontecimientos ni la representación de los personajes, y no se hacen responsables de ninguna interpretación errónea. Esta historia se proporciona “tal cual”, y las opiniones expresadas son las de los personajes y no reflejan los puntos de vista del autor ni del editor.

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