This past June, on my birthday, all three of them came home the same evening, the way they always did.
Usually, that meant arguing loudly the second they walked through the door over whose bakery had made the better cake that year, a running joke that had somehow survived two decades without ever getting old.
This year, they barely spoke at all.
Nora didn’t say a word through the entire dinner I’d made. Piper’s eyes were swollen, red-rimmed in a way makeup hadn’t quite managed to cover. Wren wouldn’t look at me directly, not once, the whole meal.
“What happened?” I finally asked, setting my fork down. “Something’s wrong. All three of you, talk to me.”
1 thought on “I ADOPTED MY THREE BABY SISTERS AFTER OUR MOTHER ABAN:DONED US — 20 years later, they handed me a letter from her I was never meant to see.”