When I was seven, a mysterious Gameboy appeared on our doorstep one Christmas morning. Mom cried when she saw it, and Dad assumed it was a gift from a kind family friend. Decades later, after Dad passed away, Mom revealed the truth: the Gameboy came from Gavin, the man she had loved before meeting Dad—and the father of my half-brother, Jonah.
Jonah was only a few years older than me, but I had grown up believing I was an only child. Mom admitted Gavin had vanished when Jonah was a baby, though he had tried to reach out with that Christmas gift and a faded photo of two boys—me and Jonah. Dad eventually learned the truth, but all he said was, “It doesn’t matter. I love both boys.”
Shaken, I began searching for Jonah. I dug through old boxes, pressed Mom for details, and scoured the internet for any lead. Finally, I found a clue: a torn envelope with the name “Lansky” on it. That name became the key to my search.
After weeks of posting on forums and scrolling through countless profiles, I finally got a message. The words on my screen made my heart stop: “I think we’re related.” It was Jonah.
