Then she looked at me.
I explained everything.
The genetic tests.
The clinic.
The doctor.
My mother’s name.
The photograph.
When I finished, Linda sat down slowly.
For a moment, she looked devastated.
Then she reached for Emily’s hand.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
Emily began sobbing.
“Mom, I’m still your daughter.”
Linda pulled her into an embrace.
“I know. Nothing changes that.”
Robert joined them.
He had tears in his eyes too.
“We always hoped that one day you would find the answers you were looking for,” he said. “We just never imagined your sister would be standing right beside you.”
Emily hugged both of them.
That evening, something beautiful happened.
Our two families sat together for dinner.
My father brought photographs of Mary.
Emily’s adoptive parents brought photographs from her childhood.
We compared birthdays, old stories, and little details.
Someone noticed that Emily and I both tilted our heads when we laughed.
