Then my stomach dropped.
Lorraine used to look like someone barely surviving life — tangled hair, cracked lips, thrift-store jackets.
But the woman standing in front of me looked completely different.
Designer coat.
Perfect makeup.
Expensive jewelry.
Shoes that probably cost more than a month’s rent.
She tilted her chin slightly, like the apartment itself smelled unpleasant.
“Nathan,” she said, almost like she wasn’t completely sure that was my name.
Then she heard the twins laughing down the hallway.
And suddenly, her entire personality changed.
Her face softened instantly.
Her voice became sugary sweet.
She pulled shopping bags from a luxury store I had only ever seen online.
The twins froze the moment they saw her.
They looked at her like they had just seen a ghost.
Lorraine crouched down with a smile that looked practiced.
“Girls, it’s me… your mom…! Look what I brought, babies!”
Inside those bags were things I could never afford.
A tablet.
A beautiful necklace Ava immediately fell in love with.
And the exact stuffed toy Ellen had once pointed at on TV months earlier.
The girls stared at the gifts with wide, confused eyes.
Because no matter how deeply children are hurt, part of them still wants to believe their parents are good.
Still wants to believe there’s a version of the story where everything finally makes sense.
I barely spoke that night.
I just watched.
Smiled weakly.
And tried to ignore the feeling twisting in my stomach.
Her Real Motive Finally Came Out
Lorraine kept returning after that.
First once.
Then twice.
Then regularly.
Always bringing gifts.
Always acting overly warm.
She took the girls out for ice cream.
Asked about school like she hadn’t missed years of their lives.
Laughed too hard at their jokes, like she was auditioning for the role of “mother.”
Part of me hoped maybe she truly wanted to fix things.
But every time she left, something felt wrong.
Then the letter arrived.
It came in a thick white envelope trimmed in gold — which honestly should have been my first warning sign.
