A sick woman with a cannula in her nose | Source: Pexels
“How would you know that?”
“Well, I don’t know if you’re a match, but you’re our last hope,” Angela answered. “Please, help. She’s your mother too.”
“Stop saying that,” I countered, gritting my teeth.
“Please,” she begged. “How about we meet somewhere? The whole family with Mom?”
A woman on a phone call standing by a window | Source: Pexels
I stared at my wife, with her big worried eyes, and considered my options. I had no idea if Angela was lying to see me face to face, or if they wanted something else. But I agreed to meet her if only to stop the harassment.
I arrived at the coffee shop ten minutes earlier than the agreed-upon time. It was a busy place, the air thick with the smell of roasted beans and the low hum of conversations.
I chose a table in the back corner, hoping for some semblance of privacy, and watched the door closely.
A view from the back corner of a coffee shop | Source: Pexels
They showed up in force, all six of them. My biological mother walked in first, flanked by who I suspected were Angela and Chris. They looked like ringleaders, while the other three, Eleanor, Daniel, and Michael, trailed behind.
They spotted me and headed over, smiles stretched thinly across their faces.
“Matthew!” Angela exclaimed. “I’m Angela! It’s so good to finally meet you!” She moved to hug me, but I subtly stepped back, putting a hand up.
A woman in a coffee shop, smiling | Source: Midjourney
She stilled smiled and introduced me to everyone properly.
“Please, sit down,” I said, nodding and gesturing to the chairs around the small table. My tone was clipped.
My biological mother sat directly across from me, her eyes watery and red-rimmed. She looked… fragile. Angela and Chris squeezed in on either side of her, while the other three siblings sort of hovered, unsure where to settle.
An older woman in a coffee shop, looking sick and fragile | Source: Midjourney
“Matthew,” Angela began, her voice trembling just so, “it means so much that you agreed to this.”
I cut her off before she could build her expectations. “Let’s be clear,” I stated, my voice calm but firm, “this isn’t a happy family gathering. I’m here because I want you all to leave me alone. And to understand a few things.”
A frown marred Angela’s face, but she quickly recovered. “Of course, of course. We understand you must have so many questions.”
A woman sitting in a coffee shop, looking upset and confused | Source: Midjourney
“I have one main question,” I said, turning to my biological mother. “Do you really need a liver transplant?”
Her lower lip trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes. “Yes, son,” she whispered in a raspy and weak voice. “The doctors say… without it…” She trailed off.
“Okay,” I said, leaning forward, my gaze steady and unwavering. “Then I need to see the tests. The ones that prove none of your other children are a match. All five of them.”
A chart used for blood testing | Source: Pexels
The forced smiles vanished. A ripple of unease spread through the group. Angela’s eyes darted around the table, Chris’s jaw tightened, and Eleanor shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Daniel and Michael suddenly found the floor fascinating.
“Well, about that…” Angela started, her nails clicking on the table. “It’s a bit complicated, you see.”
“Complicated how?” I pressed.
A man sitting at a coffee shop table, frowning | Source: Midjourney
Chris jumped in, his voice louder, more aggressive. “Look, it’s not really necessary for all of us to get tested, is it? If you’re a match, then problem solved, right? Why make everyone go through all that hassle?”
“Hassle?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow. “A simple blood test is a ‘hassle’ when your mother’s life is supposedly on the line?”
Eleanor piped up. “Well, I, um… I don’t really like hospitals,” she mumbled, avoiding my gaze. “And needles… I get really faint.”
A woman in a yellow dress, looking sad and sitting at a coffee shop table | Source: Midjourney
Daniel cleared his throat. “Yeah, and I’ve got this… thing… at work,” he offered vaguely. “I haven’t been able to and I don’t think I can get the time off for surgery either.”
Michael just nodded in agreement.
I couldn’t believe these answers. Their mother’s life was on the line.
Angela, sensing my outrage, tried to regain control. “Matthew,” she said, “can’t you see Mom is suffering? Can’t you just help your poor mother?”
A woman at a coffee shop, looking upset and pointing at something to her side | Source: Midjourney
My mother?
I couldn’t deal with this anymore, so I stood and paced for a second before turning to them and giving them a piece of my mind.
“I wanted nothing to do with you people before,” I said, my gaze sweeping across each of their faces. “And this little performance just confirms everything. My biological parents,” I emphasized those words, “discarded me. And now, her real children—her beloved children—are refusing to help her.”
A man standing in a coffee shop, talking in an upset manner | Source: Midjourney
“Hey! Bro, it’s not like that—” Michael started.
“Let me be perfectly clear,” I interrupted him, putting a finger up. “I will not be the one to save her life. I want nothing to do with any of you. Ever. If I get a single more message, I will be getting a restraining order and a lawyer.”
And finally, I turned to my biological mother. I was human enough to feel pity for her, and that’s why I said my next words. “Thank you for leaving in that alley. It gave me a chance to find a family that would give up their lives for me. I wish you all the best.”
An empty alleyway | Source: Pexels
Without waiting for a response or for whining from my siblings, I turned and walked out of the coffee shop. I didn’t look back, didn’t falter, didn’t give them a single glance.
When I told Vivianne everything later that night, she listened while rubbing my hand in comfort.
“You did the right thing, Matthew,” she said. “You know, I know, that for the mother who raised you, you would have done anything. You would have gone under the knife in a heartbeat, no questions asked.”
Instruments used during a surgical procedure | Source: Unsplash
I nodded. It was true. But the woman in the coffee wasn’t my mother, and those were definitely not my siblings. Not really.
So, I removed the 23&Me profile. I deleted all my social media, and I even changed my phone number in case those people didn’t heed my warning.
A phone turned upside down | Source: Pexels
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.
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