The save-the-dates printing? Pending.
The espresso machine we’d registered for? Canceled.
I went from being the oldest child to the only parent. I went from designing foundations to becoming one to two little girls who had nowhere else to go.
Our dad, Bruce, had walked out when Mom told him that she was miraculously pregnant with the twins. I was almost 15. We hadn’t heard from him since. So when Mom died, it wasn’t just about grief.
It was about survival. It was about two scared, silent girls clinging to their backpacks and mumbling if I could sign permission slips now.
I moved back into Mom’s house that same night. I left behind my apartment, my coffee grinder, and everything I thought made me an adult.
I tried my best. But Jenna? She made it all look easy.
Jenna moved in two weeks after the funeral, saying she wanted to help. She packed school lunches for the girls. She braided their hair. She sang lullabies she found on Pinterest.
And when Maya wrote her name and number as another emergency contact in her glittery notebook, Jenna wiped away a tear and whispered, “I finally have the little sisters I always dreamed of.”
I thought I was lucky. I thought my fiancée was an angel doing exactly what my mother would have wanted for the twins…
But boy, was I wrong.
Last Tuesday, I came home early from a site inspection. The sky had turned overcast and heavy by the time I pulled into the driveway. It was the kind of weather that always seemed to remind me of hospital waiting rooms.
The house looked peaceful from the outside. Maya’s bike was still on the lawn, and Lily’s muddy gardening gloves were tucked neatly on the porch rail like always. I unlocked the door quietly, not wanting to disturb anyone if they were napping or busy with homework.
Inside, the hallway smelled like cinnamon buns and craft glue. I took a step forward and paused when I heard Jenna’s voice from the kitchen.
It wasn’t warm or gentle. It was low and cutting, like a whisper wrapped in ice.
“Girls, you are not going to be staying here for long. So, don’t get too comfortable. James is doing what he can, but I mean…”
I froze. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“I’m not wasting the final years of my 20s raising someone else’s kids,” Jenna continued. “A foster family would be much better for you anyway. At least they’ll know how to deal with your… sadness. Now, when the final adoption interview is scheduled, I want you both to say that you want to leave. Understand?”
There was silence. Then a soft, choked sound.
“Don’t cry, Maya,” Jenna snapped. “I’m warning you. If you cry again, I’ll take your notebooks and throw them away. You need to grow up before you keep writing your silly stories in them.”
“But we don’t want to leave,” Maya whispered. “We want to stay with James. He’s the best brother in the world.”
I felt my stomach twist.
“You don’t get to want anything. Go do your homework, girls. Hopefully, you’ll be out of my hair in a few weeks, and I can go back to my wedding planning. Don’t worry, you’ll still be invited, of course. But don’t think that you’ll be… bridesmaids or anything.”
I heard footsteps, bare, quick, rushing up the stairs. Seconds later, the girls’ bedroom door shut too hard.
I stood there, holding my breath, the weight of her words sinking in. I couldn’t even move toward the kitchen. I didn’t want her to know I was there. I just needed to hear more. I needed to know more.
I needed to be sure before I reacted.
Then I heard Jenna again — her tone changing, like she’d flipped a switch, that’s how I knew she was on a call with one of her friends.
“They’re finally gone,” Jenna said. Her voice was light now, almost breathless, like she’d taken off a mask. “Karen, I swear I’m losing my mind. I have to play perfect mom all day. And it’s exhausting.”
She laughed softly, a sound I hadn’t heard from her in weeks. I wondered what Karen had said. There was a pause, then her tone turned sharper.
“He’s still dragging his feet on the wedding,” she continued. “I know it’s because of the girls. But once he adopts them, they’re legally his problem, not mine. That’s why I need them gone. We have an interview coming up with the social worker soon.”
I pressed my hand against the wall to steady myself.
“The house? The insurance money? It should be for us! I just need James to wake up and smell the coffee… and put my name on the deed. And after that, I don’t really care what happens to those girls. I’ll make their lives miserable until he gives in. And then this naïve man will think it was his idea all along.”
My breath caught in my throat. How was I going to marry this horrible woman?
“I’m not raising someone else’s leftovers, Karen,” she said. “I deserve so much more than this.”
I backed out through the front door and shut it quietly behind me. My hands were trembling.
Inside the car, I sat completely still. My reflection in the rearview mirror looked unfamiliar — pale, drawn, and furious.
It hit me all at once.
