I told Sarah I’d meet her at a diner.
Later that day, I stood in the living room, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might crack the floor beneath me. My parents sat across from me, smiling, happy, unaware of the storm about to hit.
“Ready for cake and ice cream?” my mother asked.
I swallowed hard. My throat felt like sandpaper.
“Something happened this morning,” I said.
My mom’s smile faltered first. My dad set down his coffee.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. How was I supposed to say this?
Finally, I forced the words out.
“A woman came to the house.”
They both went rigid.
“She… she said she’s my biological mother.”
The air in the room shifted.
