When Rachel’s twins returned home after their university programme and told her they no longer wanted to see her, all the sacrifices she had made were suddenly called into question. But the truth about their father’s sudden reappearance forced Rachel to make a choice: protect her past or fight for her family’s future.
When I got pregnant at 17, the first feeling I experienced wasn’t fear.
It was shame.
Not because of the children — I already loved them, even without knowing their names — but because I was already learning to become small.
I was learning to take up less space in the corridors and classrooms, to hide my belly behind trays in the canteen. I was learning to smile while my body was changing, while the girls around me were buying dresses for prom and kissing boys with perfect skin, with no clear plans for the future.
While they were posting photos from homecoming, I was learning to keep saltine crackers down during third period. While they were stressing about entrance exams, I was looking at my swollen ankles and wondering if I would ever graduate.
My world wasn’t made up of garlands and cute parties; it was made up of latex gloves, WIC forms, and dimly lit ultrasound rooms with the sound turned down almost all the way.
And Evan said he loved me.
He was the typical golden boy: a regular on the university team, perfect teeth and a smile that made teachers forgive late assignments. He kissed my neck between classes and said we were soul mates.
When I told him I was pregnant, we were sitting in the car park behind the old cinema. His eyes widened, then filled with tears. He pulled me close, breathed in the scent of my hair and smiled.
‘We’ll manage, Rachel,’ he said. ‘I love you. And now… we have our own family.’ I’ll be with you every step of the way.
But the next morning, he was gone.
No phone call, no note… and no answer when I went to his house. Only Evan’s mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed, lips pressed together.
‘He’s not here, Rachel,’ she said dryly. ‘I’m sorry.’
I remember looking at his car parked in the driveway.
‘He’s gone to live with relatives out west,’ she added, closing the door before I could ask where and how to contact him.
Evan blocked me everywhere.
I was still stunned when I realised I would never see him again.
But there, in the bluish silence of the ultrasound room, I saw them. Two little heartbeats — side by side, as if they were holding hands. And something inside me fell into place: even if no one else comes, I will stay. I have to.
My parents weren’t thrilled when they found out I was pregnant. They were even more embarrassed when I told them I was expecting twins. But when my mum saw the ultrasound, she cried and promised she would support me no matter what.
When the boys were born, they came out screaming, hot and perfect. First Noah, then Liam — or was it the other way around? I was too exhausted to remember.
But I remember Liam’s little fists clenched so tightly, as if he came into the world ready to fight. And Noah — calm, looking at me as if he already knew everything there was to know about the universe.
The early years were a blur of bottles, fevers, and lullabies whispered with chapped lips at midnight. I learned the squeak of the pram wheels and the exact time the sun lit up our living room.
There were nights when I sat on the kitchen floor, eating peanut butter on stale bread with a spoon and crying from exhaustion. I stopped counting the birthday cakes I baked myself — not because I had time, but because buying one seemed like a defeat.
They grew in spurts. One day they were in onesies, laughing at Sesame Street. The next, they were arguing over who should carry the bags from the car.
‘Mum, why don’t you take the biggest piece of chicken?’ Liam asked once, when he was eight.
‘Because I want you to grow taller than me,’ I replied with a smile.
‘I’m already taller,’ he snorted.
‘By half a centimetre,’ Noah grumbled, rolling his eyes.
They were different, always had been. Liam was a spark: stubborn, quick-witted, always ready to break the rules. Noah was my echo: quiet, thoughtful, keeping everything together.
We had our rituals: films on Fridays, pancakes on exam days, and always a hug before leaving the house, even when they pretended to be embarrassed.
When they were accepted into the dual enrolment programme — a state programme that allowed first-year students to earn university credits — I stayed in the car after the meeting and cried until I couldn’t see.
We did it. After all the struggles, all the sleepless nights… after every missed lunch and every overtime shift.
Until that Tuesday that ruined everything.
It was a stormy day — grey skies, heavy air, wind banging on the windows as if trying to get inside.
I was coming back from a double shift at the diner, soaked to the bone, my socks squelching in my wet shoes. The cold was seeping into my bones. I kicked the door shut, dreaming only of dry clothes and hot tea.
What I definitely didn’t expect was silence.
No music from Noah’s room, no beeping from the microwave heating up the food Liam had forgotten to eat. Just silence — thick, strange, unsettling.
They sat on the sofa next to each other. Motionless. Tense, shoulders straight, hands on their knees — as if preparing for a funeral.
‘Noah? Liam? What’s going on?’
My voice seemed too loud in the quiet house. I put my keys on the table and moved forward cautiously.
‘What happened? The programme? What’s wrong with you…?’
‘Mum, we need to talk,’ Liam interrupted, his voice so different I barely recognised it.
The way he said it made my stomach clench.
Liam didn’t look up. His arms were crossed over his chest, his jaw clenched—that’s what he does when he’s angry but trying to hide it. Noah sat next to him, his hands clasped together, his fingers clenched so tightly that I wondered if he could even feel them.
I slumped into the chair opposite them. My uniform clung to my body, damp and uncomfortable.
‘Okay, guys,’ I said. ‘I’m listening.’
‘We can’t see you anymore, Mum. We need to leave… We’re done here,’ Liam said, taking a deep breath.
‘What are you talking about?’ My voice broke before I could hold it back. ‘Is this… is this a joke? Are you filming some kind of stupid video? Honestly, guys, I’m too tired for your pranks.’
‘Mum, we met our father. We met Evan,’ Noah said, shaking his head slowly.
His name hit me like ice water down my spine.
‘The director of our programme,’ Noah added.
‘The director? Go on.’
‘He came to us after orientation,’ Liam said. “He saw our surname and said he had studied our files. He asked to meet with us personally and said he had been waiting for an opportunity to come into our lives for a long time.
‘And you believed him?’ I asked, looking at my sons as if they had suddenly become strangers.
‘He said you were the one keeping us away from him, Mum,’ Liam said, his voice tense. ‘That he tried to be there and help, but you decided to cut him out.’
‘That’s not true at all,’ I whispered. ‘I was 17. I told Evan I was pregnant, and he promised me the world.’ And the next morning, he was gone. Just like that, no call, no message. He was gone.
‘Enough!’ Liam interrupted sharply, standing up. ‘You say he lied. But how do we know you’re not lying?’
I flinched. My heart ached that my own children doubted me. I didn’t know what Evan had told them, but it was enough to make them think I was a liar.
It was as if Noah could read my mind.
‘Mum, he said that if you don’t come to his office to agree to his terms, he’ll make us drop out. He said he’ll ruin our chances of getting into university. Yes, participating in these programmes is important, but the real game will begin when we’re accepted for full tuition,’ Noah said.
‘And… what exactly does he want, guys?’
‘He wants to play the perfect little family. He said you stole 16 years from him with us,’ Liam said. ‘And that he’s trying to get on the state board of education. He thinks if you agree to pretend to be his wife, it will benefit all of us.’ There’s going to be a banquet we need to go to.
I couldn’t speak anymore. I sat there, the weight of 16 years pressing down on my chest. It was like a punch in the face… not just because of the absurdity of the situation, but because of the sheer cruelty of it.
I looked at my sons — their eyes were full of disbelief, their shoulders hunched with fear and betrayal. I took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled.
‘Boys,’ I said. ‘Look at me.’
They looked. Hesitantly, but hopefully.
“I’d rather burn down the entire education board than let this man take control of us. Do you really think I would deliberately keep your father away? My treasures, he left. Not me. It was his choice, not mine.
Liam blinked slowly. His eyes sparkled with the same light as the little boy who had clung to me with scraped knees and a broken heart.
‘Mum…’ he whispered. ‘What should we do?’
‘We’ll accept his terms, boys. And then we’ll expose him at the most opportune moment.’
On the morning of the banquet, I took seconds in the dining room. I needed to keep moving. If I sat still for too long, I would drown in my thoughts.
The boys sat at a table in the corner with their homework spread out in front of them — Noah with his headphones on, Liam drawing something in his notebook as if competing with someone. I poured them more orange juice and smiled — a restrained smile, but a smile nonetheless.
‘You don’t have to stay here, you know?’ I said gently.
‘We want to stay, Mum,’ Noah replied, removing one earphone. ‘We said we’d see him here, remember?’
I remembered. I just didn’t want to.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Evan walked in as if he owned the place, wearing an expensive coat, perfectly polished shoes, and a smile that turned my stomach.
He sat down on the bench opposite the boys as if it were his rightful place. I watched them from behind the counter for a while. Liam tensed up, and Noah didn’t want to look at him.
I approached with the coffee pot in my hands, clutching it like a shield.
‘I didn’t order this, Rachel,’ Evan said, without even looking at me.
‘You don’t need it,’ I replied. ‘You’re not here for coffee. You’re here to make a deal with me and my sons.’
‘You’ve always had a sharp tongue, Rachel,’ he smiled, taking a packet of sugar.
‘We’ll do it. The banquet. The photos. Everything. But make no mistake, Evan. I’m doing this for my sons. Not for you.’
‘Of course it’s for them,’ he said, his eyes meeting mine, satisfied and inscrutable.
He stood up, took a chocolate chip muffin from the display case, and took five dollars out of his wallet, as if he were doing us a favour.
‘See you later, family,’ he said with a smile as he left. ‘Dress up for the occasion.’
‘He’s enjoying every second,’ Noah sighed.
‘He thinks he’s already won,’ Liam added grimly, looking at me.
‘Let him think that,’ I replied. ‘He’s in for another surprise.’
In the evening, we arrived at the banquet together. I was wearing a dark blue form-fitting dress. Liam was adjusting his shirt cuffs. Noah’s tie was tied crookedly — on purpose. And when Evan saw us, he smiled as if he had already received his cheque.
‘Smile,’ he said as he approached. ‘Let’s pretend it’s real.’
I smiled genuinely, showing my teeth.
When Evan later took the stage, the audience applauded. He greeted the crowd like a man who had already won the award. Evan always loved being the centre of attention, even when he didn’t deserve it.
‘Good evening,’ he began, the light reflecting off his watch. ‘Tonight, I dedicate this celebration to my greatest achievement: my sons, Liam and Noah.’
The audience applauded and cameras began to click.
‘And, of course, their wonderful mother,’ he added, turning to me as if presenting me with a priceless gift. ‘She has been my greatest support in everything I’ve done.’
The lie burned in my throat.
He went on to talk about perseverance, redemption, the strength of family, and the beauty of second chances. He spoke as if he truly believed it. Evan was flawless, charming, and his speech seemed to be crafted by someone who knew exactly what to say without thinking about the meaning.
Then he reached out to the audience.
‘Guys, come up here. Let’s show everyone what a real family looks like.’
Noah looked up at me, seeking a sign. I nodded slightly.
My sons stood up together, adjusting their jackets, and walked onto the stage in unison — tall, confident, just as I had always wanted them to be. To the audience, it looked perfect.
A proud father and his brilliant sons.
Evan put his arm around Liam’s shoulder, smiling for the cameras. Liam stepped forward.
‘I want to thank the man who raised us,’ he said.
Evan leaned forward, his smile widening.
‘And this man is not him,’ Liam continued. ‘Not at all.’
A whisper rippled through the room like a clap of thunder.
“He abandoned our mother when she was 17. Left her alone with two babies. He never called. He never showed up. In fact, he only found us last week and threatened us. He said that if Mum didn’t pretend to be his wife, he would ruin our future.
‘Enough, boy!’ Evan barked, trying to interrupt.
But Noah stood up beside him.
‘Our mum is the reason we’re standing here today. She worked three jobs. She was with us every day. She deserves all the credit. Not him.’
The room erupted in a standing ovation. Camera flashes went off, parents whispered, and one of the teachers ran out of the room, already on the phone.
We didn’t stay for dessert.
But the next morning, Evan was fired, and an official investigation began. His name made headlines for all the wrong reasons.
The following Sunday, I woke up to the smell of pancakes and bacon.
Liam was standing at the stove, whistling something. Noah was sitting at the table, peeling oranges.
‘Good morning, Mum,’ Liam said, flipping a pancake. ‘We made breakfast.’
I leaned against the doorframe and smiled.
