The shocking Test Result

The lecture is over and Professor James has left. I stay seated. I’m not in a hurry because my next class doesn’t start for another hour.

Gregory is still sitting too. I already know what’s coming.

“Christie, what’s wrong?” he asks, looking straight at me.

I haven't said anything yet. I don’t know how to say what’s in my head. I don’t even know how to say it without sounding crazy... or like a jealous sister.

Because that’s what I’m supposed to be, his sister.

I shouldn’t feel this way. I shouldn’t get flustered around him or have these ridiculous butterflies every time he looks at me. I shouldn’t get angry seeing other girls with him. I shouldn’t be having dreams…wet dreams and twisted fantasies…about my own brother.

But I do. I always have. Since I was six.

At first, I thought I was weird. Evil or sick.

Until that night when I was 12. I overheard my mother whispering to my father that she knew she had given birth to a boy in that specialist hospital in Matica. But when she woke up, she had seen she had a girl.

The King had dismissed it as afterbirth confusion. “Hallucinations,” he called it.

But I never forgot.

That one conversation has haunted me ever since. It planted something inside me. Made me question everything, including who I really am.

And slowly, I stopped blaming myself for how I feel about Gregory. I even began to wonder... what if he feels it too?

“Christie!” His voice cuts into my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I mutter.

“You don’t seem okay,” he presses. “You didn’t come get me for class today. I overslept.”

“You overslept? Or you were busy fucking Anna?” I snap, before I can stop myself.

He freezes.

His eyes lock with mine, then shift away, guilt flashing across his face.

I stand up to leave, but he moves fast and blocks me.

“Who told you I was with Anna?”

“Does it matter?” I shoot back. “The palace has ears, Gregory.”

He flinches slightly. He knows I’m pissed; I only call him Gregory when I’m close to strangling him.

He smirks. Damn that smirk. He knows what it does to me. Or maybe he doesn't.

“I probably drank something I shouldn’t have last night,” he says, voice low. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I wasn’t careful. I shouldn’t have let my guard down. I’m sorry.”

That’s so Gregory. Always diplomatic. Always calm. Always the one who keeps peace, even in a storm. His apology makes me feel guilty too. I gave him that alcohol. I was responsible for his misbehavior but I can't say it.

I nod, trying not to melt.

“Am I forgiven?” he asks, eyes still locked on mine.

“Do I have a choice?” I reply, trying to sound tough.

He grins.

“Then smile for me.”

I try to resist. I want to act like I don’t care.

But I smile.

He steps forward and pulls me into a hug.

And just like that, I’m gone again.

***

The next day, I’m tense and restless. I can’t concentrate on anything, not my tutor’s long, dragging voice during class, not Lina’s whispered reminders. My mind is only on one thing: the DNA test result.

As soon as class ends, I sneak out quietly with Lina, keeping to the far corners of the palace until we reach the west wing. This part of the palace holds staff offices, the clinic, and administration blocks; places I shouldn’t be seen hanging around.

We get to Dr. Arun’s office. He opens the door almost immediately and ushers me in, while Lina waits outside.

“Your Highness,” he greets with a slight bow. “Please, take a seat.”

I sit without a word.

He picks up a brown envelope from his desk and walks over to me. “Would you like to take the result with you,” he asks gently, “or should I read it to you?”

I hesitate, then say, “Please read it.”

He nods, opens the envelope, and unfolds a sheet of paper. His eyes skim it before he says:

“The genetic analysis of the hair sample you gave me did not match your DNA. There is no biological relationship between you and the Crown Prince.”

My heart doesn’t drop, it beats louder. I’m not shocked, not at all, but something still feels off.

I narrow my gaze at him. “How did you know the hair belonged to the Crown Prince?” I ask slowly.

He gives me a small smile. “I’m familiar with his genetic material,” he says. “And yours too.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, still narrowing my eyes.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve run this exact test,” he says, lowering his voice. “Don’t say I told you this, please. But the Crown Prince came here last year... with a comb that had strands of your hair. He asked me to compare it with his blood sample. The result was the same as this.”

He folds the paper again and hands the envelope to me.

I take it quietly, gripping it tightly in my hand, my heart pounding. “Do my parents know too?” I ask, glancing at him over my shoulder as I walk toward the door.

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so. And if they do, it didn’t come from me.”

I nod slowly. “I trust you to keep this a secret, Doctor.”

“You can count on me, Princess,” he says with a slight bow. “As always.”

I turn, open the door, and walk out, still gripping the envelope like it holds my whole world inside.

***

As I sit with my supposed family having dinner, I can’t eat. I push food around my plate, my thoughts in total chaos. I should be happy I finally got the answer I’ve been praying for. I’m not biologically related to Gregory. That means I’m not crazy or evil for feeling the way I do about him. I’m not a psycho.

But if I’m not a Halrion… then who am I?

I remember hearing my mother once saying she gave birth to a boy in that hospital in Matica, but woke up to a girl. She had been so sure. Was I swapped at birth? Is that why this is happening? Who are my real parents?

“Christie, you’re not eating,” Father’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a lightning bolt.

I blink and look up, startled.

“Are you alright?” he asks, and I can feel everyone’s eyes turning to me.

I sit up quickly and force a small smile. “Yes, Your Majesty — I mean, yes… I’m fine.” My voice is shaky. “I was just mentally preparing a defence for my moot court case tomorrow.”

Gregory throws me one of those silent glares that says, ‘you just lied.’ I pretend not to see it.

“Father, or Dad,” the king says firmly. “We’re here as a family, and I prefer we speak informally. I insist, again.”

“Yes, Father,” I say quickly, lowering my gaze.

Mother reaches across the table and gently squeezes my hand with a smile. But the smile that eases the worry and confusion in my head… is Gregory’s. That familiar, quiet smile.

I pick up my fork and finally begin to eat.

But one question won’t leave me: Gregory knows I’m not his sister. That test he ran a year ago… why did he do it?

Has he been feeling the same way I feel all this while?