Thirty minutes after I gave birth, my husband demanded a DNA test. Then my mother-in-law turned white—she knew a secret he didn’t.

Two weeks later, Jake moved to Portland.

We all went to the airport to see him off.

Eleanor cried, holding him tight, making him promise to call every day, to come home for Christmas, for birthdays, for everything.

Richard clapped him on the back, told him he was proud of him, that he had a home here whenever he needed it.

Mark hugged him, hard, clapping him on the back.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said. “Anything. Day or night. I’m here.”

Jake nodded, his eyes wet, then turned to me.

He held out his hand, then pulled me into a quick, awkward hug.

“Thank you,” he said, quiet, in my ear. “For giving me a second chance. For not hating me. I’ll never forget it.”

I hugged him back.

“Good luck, Jake,” I said. “You deserve good things.”

He pulled away, smiled, then picked up his bags and walked through security, waving until we couldn’t see him anymore.

On the drive home, Eleanor was quiet, but she wasn’t sad.

She was smiling, looking out the window.

“For 32 years, I thought I’d lost him forever,” she said, soft. “Now I have two sons. Two wonderful sons. I never thought I’d be this happy.”

Richard reached over and held her hand, lacing their fingers together.

That weekend, Mark and I took Liam to the park.

It was a warm, sunny day, the sky bright blue, the grass green.

Mark spread a blanket out under a big oak tree, laid Liam down on his stomach, and got down on the ground with him, making silly faces, making him laugh so hard his whole body shook.

I sat there, watching them, my heart so full it felt like it might burst.

Mark looked up at me, his face glowing in the sun, and smiled.

“Marry me again,” he said, loud enough for only me to hear.

I blinked, surprised.

“What?”

“Marry me again,” he said, sitting up, reaching into his pocket.

He pulled out a small ring box, opened it.

Inside was a new ring, simple, beautiful, with a small diamond and two tiny sapphires on either side.

“One for you,” he said, pointing to the diamond. “One for Liam. One for us. For our second chance. I know we already did this once, but I want to do it right. No lies. No secrets. No doubt. Just us. I promise to trust you, to choose you, every single day, for the rest of my life. Will you marry me again, Lila?”

I looked at him, at our son giggling on the blanket between us, at the ring glinting in the sun.

I didn’t even have to think.

“Yes,” I said, crying, smiling. “Yes, a thousand times yes.”