When school ended, I lingered under the excuse of organizing supplies. I was really waiting.
The classroom door opened.
“Mom!” Theo shouted, racing into a woman’s arms.
I froze.
Ivy.
Older now, but unmistakable.
She saw me and her smile faltered.
“I know who you are,” she whispered. “Owen’s mom.”
The air thickened. Other parents stared.
We moved to the principal’s office.
“I need to ask you something,” I said, my voice steady but thin. “Is Theo… my grandson?”
Ivy looked up, eyes bright with tears.
“Yes.”
The word hit like lightning.
“He has Owen’s face,” I breathed.
“I should’ve told you,” Ivy said. “I was scared. I was twenty. I had just lost him too.”
“I lost him too, Ivy.”
She nodded. “I didn’t want to add more pain to yours.”
“I needed to know,” I whispered.
“He’s my son,” she said carefully. “I raised him. I won’t let him be pulled between us.”
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