Margaret got up slowly, her knees creaking with age. She moved to a cabinet and pulled out a small, worn box. She opened it carefully, revealing a faded photograph of two young boys—one with dark brown hair and the other with slightly lighter curls.
They were babies, lying side by side in a hospital crib, their tiny hands clasped together. “This is you, George,” Margaret said, her voice trembling. “And this is Luke. The day you were born.” George’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at the photo. Emily’s eyes filled with tears as she watched them.
She had never imagined this moment would be so emotional, so powerful. Seeing Margaret and George share this moment, the understanding and the grief, was overwhelming. Margaret turned to George, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, Jacob. I never wanted to abandon you. But I had no choice.
I thought you’d have a better life, a life I couldn’t give you. And I’ve carried that pain with me every day.” George reached out, pulling Margaret into a warm embrace. “I understand, Margaret,” he whispered. “I know you didn’t want to. And I’m okay. I’ve had a good life. But I’m glad we’ve found each other now. I’m glad you’re here.”