"What's this?"
She wanted full custody!
She didn't even flinch. She looked at me like I'd just asked her to pass the salt.
"It's time I did what's best for them," she said. "You've done enough."
"What's best for them?" I could barely get the words out. "You left them. I raised them. I gave up everything for them!"
She rolled her eyes.
"Don't be dramatic. They're fine. You managed. But I have opportunities now. Connections. They deserve more than this life."
"You've done enough."
Then she said it — the thing that broke something in me.
"I need them."
That's what she said. Not "I love them" or "I miss them." Just that. As if they were possessions she'd left behind and now wanted to reclaim. Her tone was cold, businesslike.
I stared at her, the room spinning. "You need them? For what, exactly?"
She didn't answer immediately. Just adjusted her coat as if the conversation bored her.
"I need them."
"You wouldn't understand. I'm building a new life, Nathan. People want to see the comeback. The mother who beat the odds and reunited with her daughters. It's inspiring. Sympathetic."
I blinked. "So this isn't about them. It's about your image."
"Call it what you want," she said, standing up. "You can't give them what I can."
The front door closed just then.
We both turned to see the girls dropping their backpacks on the floor.
Lorraine froze. I did too.
"It's about your image."
Ava's eyes darted between us, and Ellen instinctively stepped behind her, as if she could hide from whatever tension she'd just walked into.
"Hi, babies!" Lorraine said, her voice flipping into that sickly sweet tone again.
But it was too late.
They'd heard enough.
Ava's face crumpled first. She started crying — not loud at first, just this low, shaking sound like something had cracked inside her. Ellen didn't cry, not immediately. She just stared at Lorraine, her little hands balled into fists.
"Hi, babies!"
"You don't want us," Ellen said, her voice quiet but shaking. "You left us."
Lorraine blinked. "Honey, that was a long time ago. I had to. But now I—"
"No," Ava interrupted through tears. "You left. Bubba stayed. Bubba takes care of us. You just bring stuff. That's not the same!"
They were both crying now, talking over each other — saying things I hadn't known they'd even been holding in.
"You didn't come to my school play."
"You missed it when I got glasses!"
