our origins.
But it didn’t explain the incorrect donor profile or establish that he’d intended what eventually happened.
Some questions would remain unanswered.
I looked down at Noah.
Then at Lily.
For decades, other people had decided what Emily and I were allowed to know.
They’d hidden photographs, buried memories, and rewritten our childhood stories.
But that chapter was finished.
Whatever Daniel had wanted, he would not determine what our children’s lives meant.
We would.
Emily gently squeezed my hand.
“Are you okay, Sarah?”
I looked at my oldest friend.
