Estella’s grief had become a permanent resident in her quiet home since her son Neil’s passing. A brilliant researcher with no known partner, he left behind no children – or so she believed. For a decade, she kept his memory alive through daily rituals, talking to his photograph as fresh flowers wilted beside it.
Everything changed when twin boys approached her in the supermarket, their small hands outstretched for help. As she studied their faces while buying them sandwiches, her breath caught – one bore Neil’s distinctive crescent birthmark on his neck. When their exhausted mother Emily arrived, recognition flashed between the women.
Through tears, Emily confessed her brief relationship with Neil and the pregnancy she hid from his family after his accident. Too overwhelmed to reach out, she’d struggled alone until fate intervened in the frozen food aisle. That day, Estella’s empty arms finally held living reminders of her son, and her lonely house filled with the sounds of children’s laughter once more.
