Maya nodded slowly, her hand moving to lower the strap of her nightgown.
When Lance saw her body, he froze. He was stunned.
It was smooth. No blemishes. No stretch marks on her belly. No evidence that she had ever given birth, let alone three times. Maya’s body looked like that of a young woman who had never been pregnant.
“Are you sure?” Lance asked in disbelief. “I thought… you had three children?”
Maya bowed her head, shuddering. She grabbed her bag from the edge of the bed and pulled out an old photo album and a death certificate.
“Lance… forgive me for not explaining earlier. I’ve been afraid that if the truth came out, people would avoid me once they find out that I’m not who they thought I was.”
Maya opened the album. It showed a burned-out house and three small children crying in front of two coffins.
“Junjun, Popoy, and Kring-kring…” Maya said, her eyes welling up with tears. “They’re not my children, Lance. They’re my nephews. They’re my sister’s children, and her husband’s.”
Lance was confused. “Where’s your sister?”
“Five years ago,” Maya began, sobbing, “our house in the province burned down. My sister and my brother-in-law were among those who perished. They died while trying to save the three children from the fire. I’m the only one left, Lance. I was their only aunt. When I was 20, full of dreams, I never imagined this would happen. But when I saw those orphaned children, I promised in front of my sister’s coffin…”
