had lost.
Six months have passed.
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Samuel now has Nora’s chin, Daniel’s ears, and a serious expression that makes him look like a tiny, disappointed businessman.
Recently, Daniel called while Samuel was crying in the background.
He joked that his difficult bedtime habits had clearly been passed down to his son.
Then his voice became quiet.
“Thank you for staying, Mom.”
I knew exactly what he meant.
After the lies.
After the nurse’s warning.
After the secret papers and the truth none of us knew how to share.
I looked at the framed photograph of myself holding Samuel—the real Samuel—and smiled.
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“I stayed because he belongs to me too,” I said. “And because you are still my son, even when you behave like an idiot.”
Nora came onto the phone.
“We should have trusted you,” she said.
