My Stepfather Needed a Kidney—His Own Son Refused, So I Stepped Forward After 10 Years of Silence

I hadn’t spoken to my stepdad in almost ten years when the call came.

It was a Tuesday evening, the kind where the light fades early and everything feels unfinished. A hospital number flashed on my phone. I almost let it ring out. Almost. Then a tired voice asked if I was related to Richard Hale and whether I could come in. There had been an accident. His kidneys were failing. He needed a transplant—urgently.

I sat on the edge of my bed for a long time after the call ended, staring at my hands like they belonged to someone else. Richard. The man who married my mother when I was nine. The man I called “Dad” once—before everything fell apart.