Thirteen years ago, after my husband’s fatal car crash, I discovered he had a secret life with twin daughters. Despite his betrayal, I adopted Carrie and Dana, raising them as my own. Over the years, they struggled with their father’s lies, sometimes accusing me of taking them in out of pity.
When the girls turned sixteen, they locked me out of the house with a harsh note saying they needed space. For a week, I waited in silence, fearing they no longer wanted me. But eventually, I received a call from Carrie, asking me to come home. To my surprise, the house had been transformed—painted, cleaned, and filled with love. The girls had worked hard to give me the perfect home, and they apologized for their actions. “You chose us,” Carrie said, “and you’ve been the best mom ever.” With tears in my eyes, I embraced them, realizing that despite their anger, they had always known how much I loved them.
