she whispered.
No one answered fast enough.
Children notice silence before they understand words.
Owen pulled Captain against his chest so tightly the old bear folded in the middle. “Mommy?”
Dr. Patel looked at Maya, and Maya looked at me, as if everyone in the room understood the same terrible thing at once: hope can hurt a child as much as grief if adults handle it carelessly.
I lowered myself onto the carpet until I was at the twins’ level.
“I don’t know yet,” I said.
Lily blinked at me. “But that’s Mommy.”
“Yes.”
“And the picture says eight months ago.”
“Yes.”
“Claire said Mommy died when we were babies.”
Owen’s voice was barely there. “She said Mommy didn’t want us.”
The room seemed to shrink around that sentence.
I had heard adults lie for money, for power, for vanity, for survival. But some lies do not end when they
