Chapter 2: What Was Inside the Box
Part 2 ⬇️
Inside the box was a photograph.
Not just any photograph.
It was me — maybe four years old — sitting on a woman's lap I didn't recognize.
She had my eyes.
My same wide forehead.
She was looking at me like I was the only thing in the world.
"Dad." My voice came out flat.
"Who is this?"
He couldn't look at me.
"That's your mother," he said quietly.
"Your real mother."
The cake was still on the table behind me.
My husband had gone still in the doorway.
My kids had no idea what was happening.
"What are you saying?"
"Your mom — the woman who raised you — she couldn't have children." His voice broke.
"We adopted you when you were two.
She made me promise never to tell you.
She was terrified you'd love your birth mother more than her."
I sat down on the porch step because my legs stopped working.
"She d\*ed never letting me tell you the truth." He wiped his face.
"And I kept hiding you at events because your birth family — they were still out there.
I was afraid they'd see you and you'd find out before I was ready."
"Before you were ready?" The words came out sharp.
"I spent twenty years thinking you were ashamed of me."
He reached into the box again.
His hand came out holding a folded letter.
May you like
"There's more," he whispered.
"Emma, there's something else you don't know yet."
