Then they turned 15, and the secrets started.
"We're studying after school."
"We signed up for a weekend thing."
Andrea returned the towels.
***
One Saturday, they came home tired and smiling too brightly.
I stood in the kitchen.
"You two have been gone a lot."
Emily opened the fridge. "We're teenagers."
Grace grabbed a glass. "You raised us to be responsible."
"We're teenagers."
"I also raised you to be terrible liars."
They froze.
For a moment, I thought they would tell me.
Then Emily kissed my cheek.
"We're okay, Dad."
I wanted to demand the truth. But fear closed my mouth.
They froze.
Deep down, I thought I knew.
Their adoption had never been a secret. Maybe they were looking for their birth family.
I had promised myself I would never make them choose.
So, I swallowed the question for three years.
***
By the eighteenth birthday listed on their records, I had practiced losing them.
