My phone buzzed. It was my sister, Linda.
“Marie! Can you watch the kids tonight? Please. I’m in a bind.”
I hesitated. “Linda, I was just there earlier this week…”
“Oh, come on. You’ve got Jack at home.”
I looked at Jack, who hadn’t moved. “Fine. I’ll be there in thirty.”
She hung up before I could finish the sentence.
When I got to her house, the kids were already asleep. The hours passed. Midnight came and went. Still no sign of her. No messages. No call.
That’s when I realized—my inhaler was missing. My breathing tightened. I stepped outside and saw Gloria, Linda’s neighbor, tending her flowers in the moonlight.
“Gloria,” I managed, “can you stay with the kids for a bit? I need to get home for my medication.”
“Of course, sweetheart,” she said kindly.
I drove home, heart pounding. The lights were on upstairs. Linda’s car was in the driveway.
I climbed the stairs slowly. Jack’s shirt was tossed in the hallway. Linda’s bracelet lay beside it.
Something clicked.
In the bathroom, laughter spilled out. A shared joke between two people I trusted.
I opened the door. They both turned, surprised. Their relaxed smiles faded quickly.
“Marie—what are you doing here?” Linda asked.
Jack barely reacted. “You were supposed to be at your sister’s.”
I couldn’t breathe. Even with my inhaler, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.
“I trusted you,” I said, voice shaking.
Jack looked at me and said something I’ll never forget: “Maybe I married the wrong sister.”
That night, I sat on the floor of the bedroom and cried. But something inside me shifted. The part of me that always forgave, always gave, quietly let go.
And something stronger took its place.
Later, I couldn’t stop thinking about Linda’s youngest, Tommy. Sweet kid. But people always said he didn’t look much like her. Or her ex. I had wondered too.
A week later, I quietly mailed a DNA test. Just one strand of hair from his brush.
The results arrived: 70% match.
Not enough to confirm Jack—but I knew exactly what it meant. The real father wasn’t Jack. It was his brother. Rick.
Soon after, Jack told me he was moving in with Linda.
“Good luck,” I said. “You’re going to need it.”
A few days later, I showed up at their door. Linda answered, surprised.
“Marie?”
Jack appeared behind her, holding a drink.
I stepped inside calmly and handed him the envelope. “You might want to read this.”
He frowned, opening the DNA report. “Seventy percent? What does that even mean?”
I looked at Linda. “Care to explain?”
She crossed her arms. “Fine. It’s Rick’s. He didn’t want the world to know, so he helps out. And you?” She shrugged. “You were convenient.”
Jack looked stunned.
I stood up. “Seems like you really did pick the wrong sister.”
Just then, the kids peeked out from the hallway, sleepy-eyed.
“Come on,” I said gently. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”
“But what about Mom?” Tommy asked.
“They need some grown-up time,” I smiled.
The kids slipped their hands into mine. We walked outside as the sun came up.
“Chocolate or strawberry pancakes?” I asked.
“Both!” they cheered.
Good. That’s what I needed too.
Something sweet—after everything.