“My birthday is in November, Mark. It’s August.”

“I wanted to pay it off early—”

“I followed you tonight.” I didn’t yell. I didn’t cry. I just stated the fact and watched his face drain of all color. “You didn’t go to Greg’s garage. You went to Cedar Hills. Unit 4B.”

He stopped breathing. He just stood there, shirtless, his chest completely still.

I picked up my phone, unlocked it, and pressed play on the video. The volume was all the way up. The sound of the crickets chirping in the recording filled our quiet living room, followed by the heavy, wet sound of them kissing on the porch. I turned the screen toward him so he could watch himself unlock the door.

“Who is she?” I asked.

Mark sat down on the edge of the coffee table. He put his head in his hands. He stayed like that for a full minute, dragging his fingers through his hair, pulling at the roots until his knuckles turned white.

“Sarah,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I swear to god, I didn’t seek this out to hurt you. I was trying to protect you.”

“You were protecting me by f*cking a woman who looks exactly like me?”

“By protecting you from the truth about your mother!” he yelled, finally looking up. His eyes were red. “When your mom passed away three years ago, I was the one who cleared out her safety deposit box. You were too deep in grief. You couldn’t even get out of bed. I was the one who went through her files. I found the papers, Sarah. The relinquishment forms.”

My skin went ice cold. “What forms?”

“Your mother didn’t bury a child,” Mark said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “She sold one.

It was a private, closed adoption. Under the table. Thirty thousand dollars. Your dad was dead, she had no money, and she couldn’t afford two kids. So she gave Elena to a wealthy family two towns over, took the cash, and told everyone the other twin drowned so no one would ask questions.”

The room started to tilt. I gripped the armrests of the chair to keep myself from sliding onto the floor. My saintly, hardworking mother. The woman who cried with me at the cemetery. It was all a performance.

“I tracked her down,” Mark continued, his words spilling out in a panicked rush. “I thought it would be a beautiful reunion. I was going to bring her to you for our anniversary. But when I found Elena… she already knew. She’d known for years. She hired a private investigator when she turned eighteen. She knew everything about you. About us. And she was furious.”