“Of course. Now you are going to tell me it was for your coworker, your sister, your mother…”
“No,” he interrupted. “It was for our daughter.”
The room went silent.
I did not even breathe.
“We don’t have a daughter, Martin.”
He lowered his head.
That one movement was enough to break my heart inside my chest.
“We did,” he whispered.
I stood up from the chair.
“What are you saying…”
He lifted his eyes. They were filled with the kind of guilt a person carries for years.
“Twenty-six years ago… when you were in the hospital after giving birth… the doctor told me that one of the girls would not survive.”
The world stopped.
“One of the girls?”
Martin’s lips trembled.
“You had twins.”
I grabbed the edge of the table. My legs weakened.
“No… no… I only gave birth to Grace. Only our Grace…”
“You were in such bad condition that they did not tell you anything. Your mother was at the hospital. She knew. I knew too. The doctors said the second girl was very weak, breathing with the help of machines, and her chances were almost zero. And then…”
