PART 11:

We’ll talk all day if we need to. You’re not angry? I’m worried, confused, a little scared, he squeezed her hand. But not angry. You’ll tell me when you’re ready, and I’ll listen. That’s what people who love each other do. You said you love me, Lena whispered. I did. I do. Evan lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles gently.

And whatever you need to tell me, that’s not going to change. Okay. Lena wanted so badly to believe him. Okay. They sat in silence wrapped in blankets under the cold November sky. Inside, they could hear the girls giggling at something in the movie. Normal sounds, happy sounds, the sounds of a life Lena desperately wanted to keep.

Saturday felt like it arrived both too quickly and not quickly enough. Lena woke up with her stomach in knots, watching Maya sleep for a long moment before getting out of bed. Today was the day. No more secrets. No more pretending. Evan’s mother picked up both girls at 9. Carol Brooks was a warm woman in her mid60s with Evans kind eyes and a smile that made Lena feel instantly at ease, even in her current state of panic.

“You two take all the time you need,” Carol said, ushering the excited girls into her car. We’re going to bake cookies and maybe visit the ducks at the pond. These two will be so tired by the time you pick them up, they’ll sleep for a week. Thank you, Carol. Lena managed. Anytime, dear.

Carol paused, her hand on the car door. He’s a good man, my son. But you know that already. I do. And you’re good for him, for both of them. Whatever you two need to work out today, you’ll figure it out. I have faith in that. After they left, Lena stood in her apartment trying to remember how to breathe normally. Her phone buzzed. Evan, I’m on my way.

Do you want me to bring anything? Lena, just yourself. 20 minutes later, he was at her door. He looked as nervous as she felt, his hair disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it. They stood in her doorway for a moment, just looking at each other. “Hi,” he said finally. “Hi,” Lena stepped back. come in.

She’d made coffee, though she doubted either of them would drink it. They sat on her couch, the same couch where they had watched movies with the girls, where Maya had fallen asleep on Evan’s lap more than once. Everything felt different now, charged with the weight of what was coming. “I don’t know how to start this,” Lena admitted.

“Start at the beginning,” Evan said gently. “Wherever that is for you.” Lena took a breath, then another. Then she began. My sister’s name was Emma. She was 3 years older than me and she was my best friend. Growing up, we did everything together. She was the brave one, the one who took risks and had adventures.

I was the careful one, always planning, always worried about consequences. Lena’s hands twisted in her lap. When we were in our early 20s, Emma got pregnant. No relationship, just a one night thing with a guy she barely knew. He disappeared the moment she told him. Our parents were furious. They’d always had these specific expectations for her, and a baby out of wedlock wasn’t part of the plan.

Evan listened without interrupting, his full attention on her. Emma was terrified. She was barely 23, working as a barista, living in a studio apartment. But she was also excited. She loved that baby from the moment she knew about it. She read every parenting book, decorated her tiny apartment, talked to her stomach constantly.

Lena’s voice wavered. I was there for all of it. Every doctor’s appointment, every midnight craving run, every moment of panic and joy. You were a good sister, Evan said quietly. I tried to be. Emma didn’t have anyone else. Our parents had basically written her off. Most of our extended family followed their lead. So, it was just the two of us preparing for this baby that was going to change everything.

Lena stood, unable to sit still any longer. She walked to the window, looking out at the gray Seattle morning. The pregnancy was normal, textbook even. Emma was healthy. The baby was healthy. We had no reason to think anything would go wrong. Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. But it did. During labor, there were complications. An amniotic fluid embolism.

The doctor said, “It’s rare, unpredictable. Emma started hemorrhaging.” They did an emergency C-section, got the baby out safely. But Emma, she couldn’t continue. The words stuck in her throat, choking her. Evan was there suddenly, his arms around her from behind, his presence solid and steadying. Take your time. She died. Lena forced out.

She never even got to hold her baby. They showed her for just a second before everything went wrong, but she never got to hold her. She was gone within an hour of giving birth. I’m so sorry, Evan breathed against her hair. The baby was healthy. Perfect. 7 lb 2 oz. Born at 3:47 in the morning on March 15th. Lena turned in Evan’s arms, needing to see his face for this part. “Her name is Maya.

” She watched, understanding Dawn in his eyes, watched him process the information, putting pieces together. “Maya is Emma’s daughter,” he said slowly. “Biologically?” “Yes.” Lena stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself. I was listed as the secondary contact on all of Emma’s hospital paperwork.

When she died, there was no one else. The father was gone. Our parents wanted nothing to do with the baby. They said Emma had made her choices and they wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences. Extended family was the same. It was just me. So, you took her. I took her. I was 23 years old, living in a one-bedroom apartment, freelancing, and barely making rent.

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