Hours later, Lauren was folding blankets in the guest room when Ethan entered quietly. He held two mugs of tea.
She hesitated before taking one.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she murmured.
“Yes, I did.” He sat across from her. “You think I wouldn’t have wanted to know? All these years, you raised them alone.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t want your money. I just wanted peace. I thought if I stayed away, you could live your dream without guilt.”
Ethan shook his head slowly. “And what about you, Lauren? Did you ever think I might have wanted us?”
The words hung between them, heavy with what-ifs.
Before she could answer, his phone buzzed.
The lab results.
Ethan’s hand trembled slightly as he opened the email. His eyes scanned the screen, and the air seemed to leave the room.
Lauren watched him, heart pounding. “What does it say?”
He looked up, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled, voice breaking.
“They’re mine.”
Lauren covered her mouth, tears spilling down. Ethan stepped closer, his own eyes wet.
“Eight years,” he whispered. “I missed eight years of their lives.”
“I didn’t want to raise them on anger,” she said. “I just wanted them to know love.”