And somehow, I had continued raising Emily’s twin sister, Lily.
Then, on the night Lily turned eighteen, my father came into my kitchen looking terrified.
He placed an old shoebox on the counter.
My name was written across the lid.
In Carl’s handwriting.
And Dad said,
“I’ve kept something from you for thirteen years.”
That was the moment I discovered that almost everything I believed about my husband leaving us had been wrong.
But before I tell you what was inside that box, you need to understand Lily and Emily.
They were identical twins.
Technically.
They had the same dark eyes.
The same hair.
The same way of tilting their heads when they were concentrating.
But personality-wise, they could not have been more different.
Lily was cautious.
Even as a toddler, she seemed determined to understand something before attempting it.
She learned to walk later than Emily because she spent months watching everyone else first.
