Meeting my boyfriend James’s parents was supposed to be a happy milestone. But the second I stepped into their house, something felt… wrong. The smell of lavender, the way the rooms looked familiar, the little locks on every door—it all made my skin prickle.
Then I saw it: a photo of a little girl on the wall. Big brown eyes. Gap-toothed smile. My breath caught. That girl was me.
Memories I’d buried came rushing back. Annabelle and Robins—James’s parents—had once been my foster parents, after my mother died. They had tried to adopt me, but the system took me away. They never stopped loving me, never stopped hoping.
James was stunned, I was overwhelmed, but one truth settled deep inside me: I hadn’t just found his parents. I’d found the family I had lost.
