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I Returned Home from Work to Find My Adopted Twin Daughters, 16, Had Changed the Locks and Kicked Me Out

I’m Ruth, and I lost my husband after his car crash. The morning he di-ed, I got a call from the police. “Ma’am, I’m Officer Matthews with the Police Department. I’m sorry to inform you, but your husband was in an accident this morning. He didn’t survive.”

The mug slipped from my hand, shattering against the linoleum. Coffee splashed across my bare feet. “What? No, that’s… no… not my Andrew!”.

The officer’s voice softened. “There’s more you need to know. There was another woman in the car who also d-i-ed… and two surviving daughters. Records in our database confirm they’re Andrew’s children.”

The room spun around me as ten years of marriage shattered like my coffee mug. “Children?”

“Twin girls, ma’am. They’re three years old.”

Three years of lies, of business trips and late meetings. Three years of another family living parallel to mine. The jerk had been living a whole other life while I’d been suffering through infertility treatments and the heartache of two miscarriages.

“Their mother had no living relatives. They’re currently in emergency foster care until—”,the officer said. I couldn’t bear to hear more so I hung up.

The funeral was a blur of black clothes and pitying looks. But then I saw my husband’s secret daughters Carrie and Dana.

They looked so lost and alone. Despite the hurt of Andrew’s betrayal, my heart went out to them.

“Those poor things,” my mother whispered beside me. “Their foster family couldn’t make it today. Can you imagine? No one here for them except the social worker.”

“I’ll take them,” I heard myself say.

Mom turned to me, shocked.

“Ruth, honey, you can’t be serious. After what he did?”

“Look at them, Mom. They’re innocent in all this and they’re alone.”

“I couldn’t have my own children. Maybe… maybe this is why.”

As a result, I decided to adopt Carrie and Dana.

For illustrative purpose only.

By the time they turned ten, I knew I had to tell them the whole truth.

“Girls,” I started, my hands trembling. “There’s something about your father and how you came to be my daughters that you need to know.”

I told them everything about Andrew’s double life, their birth mother, and that terrible morning I got the call. I told them how my heart broke when I saw them at the funeral and how I knew then that we were meant to be together.

The silence that followed felt endless. Dana’s face had gone pale, her freckles standing out like dots of paint. Carrie’s lower lip trembled.

“So… so Dad was a liar?He was cheating on you?”, Dana’s voice cracked.

“And our real mom…” Carrie wrapped her arms around herself. “She died because of him?”

“It was a terrible accident, sweetheart.”

“But you… You just took us? Like… like some kind of consolation prize?”, Dana’s eyes narrowed, something hard and horrible creeping into her young face.

“No! I took you because—”

“Because you felt sorry for us?” Carrie interrupted, tears streaming now. “Because you couldn’t have your own kids?”

“I took you because I loved you the moment I saw you,” I reached for them, but they both flinched back. “You weren’t a consolation prize. You were a gift.”

“Liar!” Dana jumped off the bed. “Everyone’s a liar! Come on, Carrie!”

They ran to their room and slammed the door.

The next few years were a minefield. Sometimes we’d have good days when we went on shopping trips or cuddled together on the sofa for movie nights. But every time they got angry, the knives came out.

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

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

Carrie and Dana were entering their teens, so I weathered their storms, hoping they’d understand someday.

Then came that awful day shortly after the girls turned sixteen.

For illustrative purpose only.

I returned home from work only to find the locks to my house changed. On the door was a note in familiar handwriting: “We’re adults now. We need our own space. Go and live with your mom!”

Next to it were a couple of suitcases filled with my belongings. The girls had packed my things and KICKED ME OUT. I went numb. What had I done to deserve this?

I drove to my Mom’s house.

“They’re acting out,” my mom said, watching me wear a path in her carpet. “Testing your love.”

“What if it’s more than that?” I stared at my silent phone. “What if they’ve finally decided I’m not worth it? That I’m just the woman who took them in out of pity?”

“Ruth, you stop that right now.” Mom grabbed my shoulders.

“You’ve been their mother in every way that matters for thirteen years. They’re hurting, yes. They’re angry about things neither of you can change. But they love you.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Because they’re acting exactly like you did at sixteen.” She smiled sadly. “Remember when you ran away to Aunt Sarah’s?”

I’d lasted three days before homesickness drove me back. On the seventh day, I got the call I’d longed for.

“Mom?” Carrie’s voice was small and soft, like when she used to crawl into my bed during thunderstorms. “Can you come home? Please?”

I drove back with my heart in my throat. When I rushed through the front door, I found my house transformed. Fresh paint coated the walls, and the floors gleamed.

“Surprise!” The girls appeared from the kitchen, grinning.

For illustrative purpose only.

“We’ve been planning this for months,” Dana explained. “Working at the mall, babysitting, saving everything.”

“Sorry for the mean note,” Carrie added sheepishly. “It was the only way we could think of to keep it a surprise.”

The girls led me to what used to be their nursery, now transformed into a beautiful home office. The walls were soft lavender, and there, by 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 wet. “Even though you didn’t have to, even though we were a reminder of everything that hurt. You chose us anyway, and you’ve been the best mom ever.”

I pulled my girls close,”You two are the best things that have ever happened to me. You gave me a reason to keep going. I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

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