I brought the carrier inside.
Then I felt something in the coat’s pocket.
A folded letter.
My name was written across it in handwriting I’d recognize anywhere.
I brought the carrier inside.
I opened it.
“Mom,
You always told me I could come to you when I needed help.
I didn’t forget that. I just stopped believing I deserved to.
These are my daughters, Abby and Layla. They’re two weeks old. Their mother is Hannah.
They’re healthy, and they’re loved.”
“I didn’t forget that.”
“You deserve to know I’m alive. They deserve to know their grandmother.
I’m sorry I made you wait three years.
Lucas.”
I read those words, then I sank into a chair and broke down crying.
“Lucas… you’re okay!”
My only son was alive.
And somehow, he’d become a father without me knowing.
My only son was alive.