The exact date.
The date my twins were born.
I closed my eyes.
For eight years, I had taken a picture in my mind.
Two tiny babies.
Two identical faces.
Two small bodies wrapped in white blankets.
Except I had never been allowed to hold the second.
I had always thought that the pain had distorted my memory.
But suddenly I realized something.
I hadn't forgotten my second baby.
I had never been given the opportunity to meet him.
I stood up.
My knees were shaking.
I turned to Mark.
“Tell me the truth.”
He looked at me.
“Everything.”
His lips were shaking.
“I can’t.
“You can.
“Emma, you don’t understand.”
“No.
I pointed to Stefan.
“You’re right. I don’t understand.”
Then I pointed at Cole.
“I don’t understand why my son has spent years fighting with a child who claims to be a brother.”
My voice broke.
“I don’t understand why that child looks exactly like my son.”
I took another step towards Mark.
“And I don’t understand why you’re here looking terrified.”
Mark's eyes are filled with tears.
For a moment, I thought you'd finally tell me.
Instead, he whispered:
“Because Stefan isn’t the only thing you don’t know.”
My heart stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Mark looked at Laura.
She shook her head.
“Tell it.
He didn't do it.
“Tell me!”
The principal got up.
“Maybe we should give everyone some privacy.”
“No.
I shook my head.
“No one is leaving.”
Mark looked at me.
I could see the battle inside him.
Then, finally, he got into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He pulled out an old envelope.
The paper was yellow.
Wrinkled.
Used on the edges.
My name was written on the front.
