It wasn’t warm. It wasn’t gentle.
It was cold—low and sharp, like a whisper wrapped in ice.
“Girls, you are not going to be staying here for long. So, don’t get too comfortable. James is doing what he can, but I mean…”
I froze.
“I’m not wasting the final years of my 20s raising someone else’s kids,” she continued. “A foster family would be much better for you anyway. At least they’ll know how to deal with your… sadness. Now, when the final adoption interview is scheduled, I want you both to say that you want to leave. Understand?”
Silence followed.
Then a soft, broken sound.
“Don’t cry, Maya,” Jenna snapped. “I’m warning you. If you cry again, I’ll take your notebooks and throw them away. You need to grow up before you keep writing your silly stories in them.”
“But we don’t want to leave,” Maya whispered. “We want to stay with James. He’s the best brother in the world.”
My stomach twisted painfully.
“You don’t get to want anything. Go do your homework, girls. Hopefully, you’ll be out of my hair in a few weeks, and I can go back to my wedding planning. Don’t worry, you’ll still be invited, of course. But don’t think that you’ll be… bridesmaids or anything.”
Footsteps rushed upstairs—bare, hurried, desperate.
A door slammed.
I stood there, unable to breathe, the weight of her words crushing me. I couldn’t move toward the kitchen. I didn’t want her to know I was there.
I needed to hear more.
I needed to be sure.
Then her tone shifted instantly—light, almost cheerful.
She was on the phone.
“They’re finally gone,” she said. “Karen, I swear I’m losing my mind. I have to play perfect mom all day. And it’s exhausting.”
She laughed softly.
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