Rachel stared at him in disbelief.
“I haven’t had a single drink today.””
“You’re emotional.””
“Because I’m finally telling the truth!””
Her voice echoed through the hallway.
Sophie jumped.
I immediately crouched and wrapped an arm around her.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.””
But it wasn’t okay.
Not anymore.
I stood and faced Rachel.
“Please. Just tell me.””
Rachel wiped her cheeks.
“Four years ago, when you were still recovering from the divorce, I was volunteering at St. Anne’s Hospital. My department was organizing a donation drive for the neonatal unit. I went there on a Tuesday afternoon.””
She glanced at Daniel.
“He was in the parking lot.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“I recognized his car. I thought he was visiting someone, so I called out to him. He looked startled when he saw me.””
Daniel interrupted.
“This is ridiculous.””
Rachel ignored him.
“He told me he was meeting a business associate. But when I walked inside, I saw him speaking to a woman near the family services office.””
My heart began to pound.
“What woman?””
“I didn’t know her name then. She was holding a folder, and Daniel was looking at photographs inside it.””
Rachel paused.
“He looked angry.””
Daniel stepped forward.
“That’s enough.””
“No,” I said.
He stopped.
I had spent too many years allowing his tone to end conversations.
“Continue, Rachel.””
She nodded.
“The woman left first. Daniel stayed for a few minutes. Then he walked toward the neonatal ward.””
I stared at her.
“Why would he go there?””
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him. I thought perhaps someone in his family had been admitted. I followed him because I was worried.””
Daniel’s face tightened.
“Rachel, you have no idea what you’re talking about.””
“I followed him to the corridor outside the neonatal unit. He was standing near a nurse’s station, looking through the glass at two babies.””
I stopped breathing.
Oliver.
Sophie.
My children had been born prematurely. They had spent their first weeks in the neonatal unit, and I remembered the first time I had seen them there.
Oliver had been so small that my wedding ring could have slid over his entire hand.
Sophie had a tiny patch of dark hair and a habit of turning her head whenever she heard my voice.
I remembered the smell of antiseptic, the soft beeping of monitors, and the terror of wondering whether I would ever be allowed to bring them home.
I remembered Daniel’s absence.
Or what I had believed was his absence.
Rachel continued.
“I asked him what he was doing. He told me to mind my own business. Then he walked away.””
I looked at Daniel.
“Were you there?””
He said nothing.
“Daniel, were you at St. Anne’s Hospital when Oliver and Sophie were born?””
His eyes flicked toward the children.
Then he looked away.
“I didn’t know they were yours.””
The words hit me harder than a denial would have.
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?””
He rubbed his jaw.
“I was there for another reason.””
“What reason?””
“It’s complicated.””
“No, Daniel. It really isn’t. You were at the hospital where my children were being treated.
You saw them. You knew something about them. And you never told me.””
“I didn’t know they were your children.””
“You just said that.””
“Because it’s true!””
His voice rose.
Then he looked at Oliver and Sophie and lowered it again.
“I didn’t know who they belonged to.””
Rachel shook her head.
“You were looking at their file.””
Daniel turned on her.
“You don’t know what you saw.””
“I saw you holding their paperwork.””
The hallway fell silent.
My hands began to shake.
I remembered the adoption process.
The months of interviews, home visits, background checks, and waiting.
I remembered the social worker who had explained that the twins’ biological parents had been unable to care for them. I remembered how carefully every detail had been handled to protect the children’s privacy.
I had never asked to know more than I was entitled to know.
I had wanted them to have a safe home.
I had wanted to love them without making their past a burden they would have to carry.
And I had certainly never imagined Daniel had been anywhere near that story.
I turned to him.
“How did you know about the children?””
He shook his head.
“I didn’t know anything.””
“Then why were you holding their paperwork?””
He looked at Rachel.
She looked back at him, her face filled with four years of regret.
Finally, he said, “I was asked to review a document.””
“What document?””
“A family services report.””
My stomach tightened.
“Why would anyone ask you to review a family services report?””
He hesitated.
Then Vanessa appeared behind him.
She had followed us into the hallway, her face pale and her eyes swollen from crying.
