The questions came slowly.
At first, Felix wanted to know whether Simone liked animals.
Then Oscar wanted to know what her voice sounded like.
A few days later, Felix asked whether she had ever seen them ride bicycles.
I didn't have answers.
So I started looking for them.
Elaine eventually agreed to meet me.
We sat at a small café on a rainy afternoon.
She carried a worn envelope.
“I kept these because Simone asked me to.”
Inside were more photographs.
There was Simone at the beach.
Simone laughing beside a birthday cake.
Simone sitting on a hospital bed with the twins asleep against her.
I looked at the photograph for a long time.
“She loved them,” Elaine said.
“I know.”
“She worried about what would happen to them.”
“She had every reason to.”
Elaine nodded.
“She wanted you to know something.”
I looked up.
“What?”
“She never blamed you.”
My throat tightened.
“She didn't know me.”
“She knew enough.”
“How?”
“Joshua talked about you.”
That surprised me.
“He did?”
Elaine nodded.
“He told Simone his wife was kind.”
I looked away.
Kind.
The word felt strangely painful.
“Did he tell her my name?”
“Yes.”
I stared at Elaine.
“Then she knew who I was.”
“Yes.”
“Did she hate me?”
“No.”
Elaine shook her head.
“She said you were the person who had no idea what was happening.”
I couldn't speak.
That was the first time I cried in front of someone who wasn't family.
Not loudly.
Just tears slipping down my face while I held a photograph of a woman who had died before I ever knew she existed.
Elaine reached across the table.
“She wanted the boys to have a good life.”
“I want that too.”
“Then don't let what happened between the adults become their burden.”
“I won't.”
When I returned home, the boys were waiting.
Felix ran toward me.
“Did you find out about Mommy?”
I knelt.
“I did.”
He looked hopeful.
“What did she like?”
I showed them the beach photograph.
“She liked the ocean.”
Oscar smiled.
“Like me.”
I smiled.
“Yes. Like you.”
That night, I placed the photographs in a box.
I wrote their mother's name on the lid.
Simone.
The box would belong to them when they were old enough to understand it.
Joshua came the next day.
I told him about Elaine.
He looked relieved.
“She kept those?”
“Yes.”
“She was good to Simone.”
“She was.”
He sat quietly.
Then he said, “I owe you the rest.”
I looked at him.
“You owe the boys the rest.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
For the first time, he told me everything without me dragging the information out of him.
He had met Simone before our marriage.
Their relationship had been brief.
When she became pregnant, he panicked.
He had been married before?
No.
He had simply been terrified that his choices would destroy the future he had imagined.
He used the name David because he didn't want Simone to know much about him.
When she discovered who he really was, she contacted him.
He avoided her.
Years passed.
Then she became ill.
He received messages.
Photographs.
Updates.
He knew the boys were his.
He simply refused to accept what that meant.
Then, after Simone died, the agency began searching for relatives.
Joshua learned that the twins might be placed permanently with another family.
That was when his fear changed into urgency.
He couldn't stand the thought of his sons growing up without knowing him.
But instead of telling me the truth, he created a plan.
He convinced me to adopt them.
He encouraged me to leave my job.
He told himself that once they were home, he would eventually explain everything.
“You knew I'd love them,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You counted on it.”
He lowered his head.
“Yes.”
“You knew I'd become attached.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I wouldn't want them sent away.”
“I knew.”
I stood.
“That is the cruelest part.”
“I know.”
“No. You still don't understand.”
I walked to the window.
“You used the best part of me as leverage.”
He didn't respond.
After a long silence, he said, “I thought if you knew everything, you'd leave me.”
“I might have.”
“I couldn't lose you.”
“You lost me anyway.”
He closed his eyes.
“I know.”
I turned.
“What did you think would happen after the adoption?”
“I thought we'd become a family.”
“We already were one.”
“I know.”
“No. You didn't.”
He looked at me.
“You thought our marriage wasn't real because we didn't have children.”
His expression changed.
“I never meant that.”
“You said our life wasn't complete.”
“I was wrong.”
“You said we needed to become a real family.”
“I was wrong.”
I nodded.
“At least you know that now.”
The boys came into the room.
Joshua immediately smiled.
“Hey, guys.”
Felix ran to him.
Oscar followed.
I watched them together.
There was love there.
Real love.
That made everything more complicated.
Because Joshua had done something unforgivable to me.
But he could still be a loving father to them.
I didn't need to destroy that relationship to end mine with him.
I could draw a line between the two.
That was what I intended to do.
A few weeks later, the divorce became final.
The boys remained with me.
Joshua kept his visitation.
The financial arrangements were settled.
My career was moving forward again.
The house was no longer ours.
Joshua had sold it.
I had moved into a smaller place closer to the boys' school.
It wasn't the home we had once imagined.
But it was ours.
One evening, Felix asked me something while I was helping him with his pajamas.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Were you sad when Daddy told you about us?”
I stopped.
“Very.”
“Because we're his boys?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
I sat beside him.
“Because he didn't tell me the truth.”
Felix thought about that.
“Did Daddy lie?”
I took a breath.
“Yes.”
He looked serious.
“Are you still mad?”
“Sometimes.”
“Do you still love him?”
That was harder.
I answered honestly.
“I loved him very much.”
“Do you love him now?”
I smiled sadly.
“I care about him because he's your father.”
Felix nodded.
Then he asked, “Do you love us?”
I pulled him into my arms.
“More than you can imagine.”
From the other bed, Oscar called out.
“Me too?”
I laughed softly.
“You too.”
For the first time, the question didn't hurt.
It felt like an answer.
Click here to continue reading: PART 8: Joshua had finally told the truth, but the boys’ simple questions forced me to decide what kind of family we would become
The adoption was supposed to fill the silence in our house, but my husband had already chosen two boys for reasons he refused to explain
Part 7 of 28
