I didn't follow Luke and Ben immediately.
I remained in Diane's living room, staring at the folder on the coffee table.
The documents were still open.
The handwritten letter lay beside them.
I couldn't stop looking at the reference number.
It had seemed like an ordinary detail when Luke first showed it to me.
Now it represented eighteen years of silence.
Robert stood near the window.
Diane was sitting on the sofa with a tissue pressed against her face.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, I picked up my handbag.
"I need to go home."
Diane looked up.
"Can we talk tomorrow?"
I looked at her.
"I don't know."
She nodded.
I walked toward the door.
Robert followed me.
"Please don't think I never cared about Luke."
I stopped.
"That's not what I'm thinking about right now."
He lowered his eyes.
"I wanted to be there for him."
"You were there."
He looked confused.
"You attended his birthdays. You watched him grow up. You were welcomed into our home."
I swallowed.
"And you knew something I didn't know how to explain to my own child."
Robert didn't answer.
I left.
The drive home felt longer than usual.
I kept thinking about the boys.
I wondered whether Luke would sleep.
I wondered whether Ben would be able to look at him without remembering everything they had just learned.
Most of all, I wondered whether my son would ever feel comfortable asking me another question.
When I reached home, the kitchen was exactly as we had left it.
The pot was on the stove.
The vegetables were still on the counter.
Two plates were sitting beside the sink.
I put my handbag down.
Then I sat at the table.
For the first time that evening, I cried.
Not loudly.
I simply covered my face and let the tears come.
I had wanted to protect Luke.
But I had protected the secret instead.
That distinction was becoming impossible to ignore.
A little later, my phone vibrated.
It was a message from Luke.
"We're back at the apartment."
I read it several times.
Then I replied.
"Are you okay?"
His answer came after a few minutes.
"I don't know."
I typed another message.
"Do you want me to come?"
He answered.
"Not tonight. Please."
I put the phone down.
I didn't call again.
I had spent too many years deciding what Luke should know and when he should know it.
I wasn't going to make that mistake again.
The following morning, I woke earlier than usual.
I made coffee but barely drank it.
My phone remained beside the cup.
At nine, I received another message.
"Can we talk today?"
I answered immediately.
"Whenever you're ready."
He called instead.
His voice sounded tired.
"Mom, I didn't sleep much."
"Neither did I."
There was a pause.
"Ben didn't sleep either."
I closed my eyes.
"How is he?"
"Quiet."
I understood.
"Are you two all right?"
"I don't know what we're supposed to be now."
I had no answer.
He continued.
"We've been sharing a room, a kitchen, everything. Now I keep looking at him and thinking about what happened."
"He's still Ben."
Luke was silent.
"He's also your brother," I added.
"I know."
He sighed.
"That's the problem."
I didn't interrupt.
"I don't know how to separate those things."
I understood more than he probably realized.
For eighteen years, Ben had been Luke's closest friend.
That relationship hadn't disappeared.
But another relationship had been placed beside it without either boy's permission.
"Take your time," I said.
He was quiet for a moment.
Then he asked something I wasn't prepared for.
"Did you ever love Robert?"
I looked at the coffee.
"Yes."
"More than Dad?"
I took a breath.
"It wasn't that simple."
"Was he the reason you and Dad separated?"
I hesitated.
"Your father and I had problems long before everything became clear."
"But Robert was involved."
"Yes."
Luke didn't speak.
I continued.
"I made mistakes. Your father made mistakes too. None of that was your responsibility."
"Did Dad know?"
"He knew about our problems. I don't know exactly what he knew about Robert."
Luke sighed.
"I think I need to speak to him."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"That's your choice."
"Can you give me his number?"
I looked at the telephone on the counter.
Luke's father and I hadn't spoken properly in a long time.
But I gave him the number.
"Thank you," he said.
"Luke?"
"Yes?"
"I love you."
He was quiet.
"I love you too, Mom."
The call ended.
I sat there for a long time.
I didn't know whether those words meant forgiveness.
I didn't ask.
That afternoon, I received a message from Ben.
It was the first time he had contacted me directly since the revelation.
He wrote that he was sorry.
He said he hadn't known how to approach me.
He also said he didn't want to lose Luke.
I read the message twice.
Then I answered.
"Neither of you should have to carry the decisions we made."
He replied with a simple thank-you.
That evening, Luke called again.
He sounded calmer.
"Mom, Ben and I talked."
"What did you discuss?"
"Everything we could."
I waited.
"He said he was angry too."
"That makes sense."
"He said he doesn't want me to move out."
I felt relieved.
"How do you feel?"
"I don't know yet."
He paused.
"But I don't want to leave just because things are difficult."
I smiled faintly.
"That's a sensible decision."
He laughed softly.
Then his voice became serious again.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"I want to know why Diane kept that letter."
I looked toward the kitchen drawer where I kept old family papers.
"I think we all need to understand that."
"She said she would talk to us again."
I nodded, even though he couldn't see me.
"Then we should listen."
I ended the call feeling no less worried than before.
But something had changed.
Luke was no longer running away from the truth.
He was beginning to ask for it.
And I knew I owed him every answer I could give.
Click here to continue reading: PART 10: The Conversation With Luke’s Father Forced Me to Admit That the Secret Had Never Been Mine Alone to Keep
My Son Had Barely Been Gone Two Days When He Returned With a Secret That Changed Everything I Thought I Knew
Part 9 of 20
