“You went through my room,” he said quietly, his voice trembling.
“Bill,” Hera began, “I was putting away laundry and—”
“You weren’t supposed to see those,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “She made me promise not to tell you.”
I knelt down in front of him. “Bill, why didn’t you tell us?”
He looked at the floor, his small hands shaking.
“Because I thought you’d send me away,” he whispered. “I thought if you knew she was still out there, you wouldn’t want me anymore. I thought… I thought you’d make me go live with her.”
My heart shattered.
I pulled him into my arms and held him tight.
“Bill,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, “you are my son. Nothing in this world will ever change that. Not Alyssa. Not a thousand letters. You hear me?”
He sobbed into my shoulder.
“But she’s my real mom,” he cried.
Hera knelt beside us, placing a gentle hand on his back.
“Sweetheart,” she said softly, “no one is saying she isn’t. But we have loved you for twelve years. We raised you. We are your family too. And we are not going anywhere.”
Bill pulled back, wiping his eyes.
