You’re all I have left. Not you’re all I ever wanted. Not I’m so sorry for what I did to you. The ask wasn’t about giving them a mother. It was about getting herself a family — a soft place to land now that the yacht was gone and the road had run out. She’d spent our sons’ entire childhoods somewhere better, and now that somewhere better had spit her back out, she’d come to collect on a bond she’d never once paid into.
Micah saw it faster than I expected. He’s the quick one.
“You kept the hospital photos,” he said slowly. “The ones from the week we were born. The week before you left.” He laughed, and it wasn’t a nice sound. “You didn’t keep them because you loved us. You kept them because they’re the only ones you were ever in.”
Tara’s face hardened, just a fraction, the warmth slipping.
