Their Eighteenth Birthday
A few weeks later, the twins turned eighteen.
I planned a small celebration at my house. Nothing extravagant — just family, friends, home-cooked food, and the same chocolate cake they had requested every year since childhood.
The evening was wonderful. People shared stories. Laughed. Took photographs. Celebrated the remarkable young men these two had become.
My heart felt completely full.
After the last guests left, I began gathering empty plates.
That’s when Mason spoke.
“Aunt Rachel, sit down.”
I looked up. Both boys were standing near the dining table, suddenly serious. Something in their expressions made me stop.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Noah smiled, a little nervously.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Mason nodded.
“We just need to tell you something.”
I sat down. Honestly, I assumed they were about to thank me for raising them — maybe deliver some sentimental speech. I was not prepared for what happened next.
