“Who’s there, Dad?” Clara asked quietly.
I took a breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s your… mother.”
The silence that followed was deafening.
Lauren walked further into the room, her heels clicking against our worn floor.
They couldn’t see her,
but they could hear the venom
in her voice.
Advertisement
“Girls!” she said, her voice suddenly syrupy sweet. “Look at you. You’re so grown up.”
Emma’s face remained blank. “We can’t see, remember? We’re blind. Isn’t that why you left us?”
The bluntness made Lauren falter for just a second. “Of course,” she recovered quickly. “I meant… you’ve grown so much. I’ve thought about you every single day.”
“Funny,” Clara said, her voice ice-cold. “We haven’t thought about you at all.”
I’d never been prouder of my daughters.
Lauren cleared her throat, clearly thrown off by their hostility. “I came back for a reason. I have something for you.”
“We’re blind.
Isn’t that why you left us?”
Advertisement
She pulled two garment bags from behind her and laid them carefully on our couch. Then she produced a thick envelope, the kind that makes a heavy sound when it hits a surface.
My chest tightened as I watched her stage this little performance.
“These are designer gowns,” she said, unzipping one bag to reveal expensive fabric. “The kind you girls could never afford. And there’s cash here too. Enough to change your lives.”
Emma’s hands found Clara’s, and they held tight.
Leave a Comment