The day I buried Emily, I thought I’d lost everything. But that night, something fell from behind our engagement photo, shaking me to the core. What I found made me question if I’d ever really known my wife.
After the funeral, the house felt wrong—sterile and empty without her. I sat on our bed, surrounded by sympathy cards, and realized I was alone. As I stared at our engagement photo, I noticed something behind it: another photo of Emily in a hospital bed with a newborn. My heart stopped. Who was this baby?
I found a number on the back, and after a late-night call, a woman named Sarah told me Emily had given up a daughter, Lily, when she was young. She had adopted her and raised her. Emily had never told me, fearing I’d leave her.
The next day, I met Lily, and she was Emily’s twin—her laugh, her kindness. We spent hours talking, and I promised to be there for her. I finally understood why Emily kept this secret; it was out of love for Lily.
That night, I placed the hidden photo next to our engagement picture. “You did good, Em,” I whispered. “I’ll do right by her. By both of you.”
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