My daughter brought her new husband over like it was supposed to be a normal milestone. Instead, the moment I opened the door, I felt my entire past step into my living room. And at their wedding, he pulled me aside and said there was a truth he’d been holding onto for decades.

Over the next few weeks, I heard “emotionally intelligent,” “he makes me feel safe,” and not much else. Every time I asked for details, she dodged. She kept promising I’d meet him “soon,” then pushing it back.

Finally: “Dinner Friday. Please be nice.”

I cleaned the house like I was being graded. Cooked her favorite pasta. Put on a dress. My stomach was doing backflips.

There was a knock. I opened the door—and my past hit me in the face.

“You know each other?”

Emily stood there smiling, holding hands with a man behind her. He stepped forward, and my brain stalled.

Same brown eyes. Same jaw. Older, but absolutely him.

“Mark?” I whispered.

His eyes went wide. “Lena?”

Emily blinked between us. “Wait. You know each other?”