I took the small envelope out of the back pocket of my backpack and put it on my lap. Then I looked at my father.

“When I was thirteen and I had to have a blood transfusion after that skiing accident where I cut open my leg, you told me that it was okay because it would be your blood, that it was a miracle we were the same blood type.”

Dad shifted in his seat. “Yes. You recovered.”

“It wasn’t a miracle, was it?” I asked softly.

Mom’s eyes widened to saucers. “Rachel, what are you asking?”

I put the picture of my dad and Seo-yun on the coffee table between us and pushed it in his direction, never breaking our stare.

Mom gasped and covered her mouth.

Dad sagged in his chair, like I’d popped the balloon that kept him upright. Then he smiled. “It wasn’t a miracle.”

“Because you’re my biological father,” I said.

Mom whimpered while Dad’s eyes watered. “Because I’m your biological father.”

I’d already known that, but hearing him admit it felt like the last piece of the puzzle I’d been looking for fell into place. In that moment, it was Landon’s voice in my head, telling me that maybe they’d kept the secret for so long because it had simply been that long.

“I have two questions.”

“Of course,” he said, his voice tight.

“Why the lie?”

My parents locked eyes, and I saw it then, the years of partnership, friendship, love, and parenthood that all passed within a glance. Dad nodded, and Mom took a deep breath.

“Because I was embarrassed. Not of you, Rachel. Never you…”

“Because you were married when it happened,” I guessed. “I did the math. It happened right after Dad left Dartmouth and did his three years to appease his father. Right?”

Mom nodded, the movement causing a small cascade of tears down her cheeks. “We were on the rocks. We’d been married three years, and we’d just learned that I was infertile. Your dad went to Korea for a year, and I didn’t know if we’d make it through.”

“I didn’t know about you,” he told me. “Not until Mrs. Rhee called me from the orphanage saying that Seo-yun had died. At that point, your mom and I were falling apart—I’d told her about the affair, and we were in the process of consulting lawyers about divorcing.”

“But you didn’t,” I said, knowing that I had been what kept their marriage together. I looked at Mom. “You forgave him? With me?”

Her lip trembled. “Not at first. I yelled, I screamed, I cursed God that he could have a child when I couldn’t, that his affair had given him the one thing I never would be able to. But…” She looked over at my dad.

“I couldn’t raise you on my own, and she knew it,” he continued. “I never stopped loving your mom. I can’t regret what happened in Korea because we have you, but I begged her take me back—to take us—and she did.”

Mom smiled at Dad and laughed a little. “I took him back because I loved him, and because more than anything, I wanted to be your mother.”

My chest tightened, and I blinked back the tears that prickled at my eyes. “You are,” I told her.

“I know, sweetheart. We agreed to work on our marriage and to bring you home. We didn’t want rumors swirling around you…or, selfishly, us, so we said we’d adopted you, and as soon as we had your dad’s papers in order, I officially adopted you.” Her face crumpled for a second before she regained her composure. “I have loved you from the moment I held you. I have never wanted to hurt you. Not like this. I just…” Tears broke free, and she crossed her arms over her stomach. “I just didn’t want you to look at me differently. To see Dad as yours, but me as a glorified stand-in.”

I flew across the small space, hitting my knees and hugging her. “Never. You’re my mom. Where I come from doesn’t change that, and I didn’t go on this search trying to replace you, because that would be impossible. Maybe I wanted to add another layer to my history, but Mom, you’re the core. If anything, I love you more because you loved me when you didn’t have to. You forgave something I’m not sure I could have and then loved me like I wasn’t the evidence that it happened.”

She held me tight, enveloping me in the scent of chocolate chip cookies and home—love. “We should have told you. I’m so sorry, Rachel.”

“Don’t be,” I told her. “The benefits of finding this out while I was gone is that it gave me time to get over the shock and the anger of the lie. I just needed to understand it.”

She pulled back, cupping my face and smiling through her tears. “The reason is that three people loved you more than anything, and we made some mistakes trying to protect you.” She looked over to my dad. “And maybe the we part didn’t turn out like we’d hoped, but you”—she looked back at me—“your strength, and your beauty, and your stubbornness…well, you’re the best thing we’ve ever done. So don’t be sad that we’re over, or think that you failed to keep us together.”

My mouth dropped open, and she just shook her head at me.

“I know how your mind works—I’m your mother. I need you to realize that you weren’t the glue that kept us together, as much as our purpose. And now you’re raised. You’re a gorgeous, self-assured woman, and now we need to find what else we’re meant for.”