“I’m sorry,” Denise whispered again, but this time, Claire could hear the tremor in her voice. “I was just… I thought they were mine. When I found out… I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell you. They were already part of my life.”
Claire’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t respond. Not yet. It wasn’t Denise she needed to talk to. It was the girls.
Lily pulled away from Claire slightly, her gray-blue eyes wide with confusion. She looked at her sister, then back at Claire, as if trying to piece together the moment. Her small fingers clutched at Claire’s jacket, like she wasn’t ready to let go.
“Are you… really our mom?” Lily asked softly, her voice so quiet it was almost drowned out by the silence.
Claire’s heart broke in two. She had been thinking for so long that this moment would be like the ones in the movies, where everything was emotional and cathartic. But the reality was far different. Her daughters, in their innocence, were still trying to understand the weight of what had happened. They were still trying to make sense of the woman who had suddenly appeared in their lives, claiming to be their mother.
“Yes,” Claire whispered, her voice trembling. “I’m really your mom.”
Lily hesitated before reaching up to touch Claire’s cheek. The gesture was tentative, like she was testing whether this was real, if this was a dream she would wake up from. And then June, the younger of the two, stepped closer, taking Claire’s hand with both of hers.
“You’re not going to leave, right?” June asked, her voice barely audible, the worry in her eyes so clear that it twisted Claire’s heart even more.
“I won’t leave you again,” Claire promised, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “I’m not going anywhere.”
There was no greater truth she could speak.
For the first time in seven years, it felt like Claire could breathe again.
But as the moment stretched on, reality began to bleed through. The truth about Denise. The truth about Margaret. The truth about the years they had lost. There was so much more to uncover. So much more to face.
Denise shifted uncomfortably in the doorway, and Claire felt her gaze without looking up. The woman had been part of her family, part of the fabric of her life. But the truth was clearer now than it had ever been. Denise had taken Claire’s daughters. She had raised them as her own. She had kept them from her.
And for that, Claire could never forgive her.
“Denise,” Claire said, her voice low, as she finally turned to face her cousin. “Why? Why did you let this happen?”
Denise flinched at the words, but she didn’t retreat. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice strained.
“I didn’t know. Not at first,” she began, her eyes darting between Claire and Ethan. “They told me you had given them up. That you were unstable. I was grieving too, Claire. I didn’t want to believe it. But when I found out… when I knew the truth, I was already attached. The girls had already bonded with me. I couldn’t… I couldn’t take them back.”
