>You were a gift.”

“Liar!” Dana shouted, springing off the bed.

“Everyone’s a liar! Come on, Carrie!”

They rushed to their room and slammed the door behind them.

I heard the lock turn, followed by muffled sobs and angry whispers.

The subsequent years felt like walking through a minefield. We’d have good days—shopping trips and cozy movie nights together—but when anger erupted, the wounds cut deep.

“At least our real mom wanted us from the start!”

“Maybe she’d still be alive if it weren’t for you!”

Each hurtful remark hit with precision.

As they neared their teenage years, I braced myself for their storms, holding on to the hope that understanding would come in time.

Then came that dreadful day shortly after they turned sixteen.

I returned home from work only to find my key wouldn’t turn in the lock.

A note taped to the door caught my eye.

“We’re adults now. We need our space. Go live with your mom!” it read.

The suitcase by the door loomed like a tomb for my hopes.

I could hear movement inside, but no one responded to my calls or knockings.

I stood there for an hour before retreating to my car.

At my mother’s house, I paced back and forth like a restless animal.

“They’re acting out,” she observed, watching as I wore a path in her carpet. “Testing your love.”

“What if it’s more than that?” I said, staring at my silent phone.

“What if they’ve finally decided I’m not worth it? Just the woman who took them in out of pity?”

“Ruth, stop that right now.” My mom grasped my shoulders firmly.

“You’ve been their mother in every significant way for thirteen years.

They’re hurting and angry about things neither of you can control.

But they love you.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Because they’re behaving just like you did at sixteen.” She smiled softly. “Remember when you took off to Aunt Sarah’s?”

I did remember. I’d been furious over something trivial.

I managed three days before homesickness brought me back.

Five long days dragged on.

I called in sick to work.

I hardly ate. Each time my phone buzzed, I grabbed for it, only to find disappointment—spam calls or concerned messages from friends.

Finally, on the seventh day, I received the call I’d been longing for.

“Mom?” Carrie’s voice was small and fragile, reminiscent of when she used to crawl into bed with me during thunderstorms.

“Can you come home? Please?”

I drove back with my heart racing.

The last thing I expected upon entering was to find my home transformed.

Fresh paint adorned the walls, and the floors shone brightly.

“Surprise!” The girls emerged from the kitchen, beaming like they did when they were younger.

“We’ve been planning this for months,” Dana explained, practically bouncing on her feet.

“Working at the mall, babysitting, saving everything up.”

“Sorry for the harsh note,” Carrie added sheepishly. “It was the only way we could think of to surprise you.”

They escorted me to what used to be their nursery, now turned into a lovely home office. The walls were painted a soft lavender, and beside the window hung a photo of the three of us on adoption day, all teary-eyed and smiling.

“You gave us a family, Mom,” Carrie whispered, her eyes glistening.

“Even though you didn’t have to, even though we reminded you of everything that hurt, you chose us anyway.

You’ve been the best mom ever.”

I wrapped my arms around my girls, inhaling the familiar scent of their shampoo, feeling their hearts beating against my own.

“You two are the best things that have ever happened to me. You gave my life purpose.

I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

“But we do know, Mom,” Dana murmured, her voice muffled against my shoulder. “We’ve always known.”