She tried to tell a close friend, hoping for clarity. Over tea, she explained everything, voice shaking. Her friend frowned, then said softly, “Maybe you just don’t remember. Kids forget things. Maybe your parents thought it wasn’t important.” But the theory only deepened her confusion. How could she forget a surgery? How could they deem it unimportant?
That evening, her husband found her staring at old photographs again. “You’re torturing yourself, Linda,” he whispered, pulling the baby into his arms. But she shook her head. “No. Someone is lying to me. I just don’t know who yet.” Her voice carried a steel edge he hadn’t heard before.