Mark wasn’t in it.
Beth and I stood on opposite sides of the twins.
Each boy held one of our hands.
Mom stepped back and looked at the picture.
“This is how it will be now.”
Nobody argued.
Cole leaned against me.
Stefan leaned against Beth.
And for the first time since the day I gave birth, I looked at my family without feeling that someone was missing.
Something had been stolen from us.
Eight years.
Trust.
Memories.
A relationship between sisters.
A childhood I could never get back.
But the truth was finally visible.
And once something becomes visible, you can name it.
You can challenge it.
You can fight for what remains.
For eight years, Mark convinced us that family meant choosing one mother, one child, and one version of reality.
The truth was much more complicated.
But it was kinder too.
Because real family didn’t require Beth to disappear so I could be Stefan’s mother.
