After My Sister Died in Childbirth, I Adopted Her Triplets – Then Their Father Came Back 8 Years Later

She taught them how to crochet crooked scarves and bake cookies that were somehow always both burned and raw.

The girls called her Granny even though she wasn’t related to us at all.

Simone across the street helped out in quieter ways.

She brought over soup when one of the girls was sick and dropped off hand-me-down books she said her niece had outgrown.

Sometimes I cooked her dinner as a thank-you. And sometimes, when she joked with the girls or caught my eye across the table, I wondered if maybe — someday — life could hold something more.

Then one afternoon, while we were playing in the yard with our dog, a car pulled up to the gate.

I assumed it was a delivery.

The gate opened, and I nearly blacked out.

It was him. Chris.

The man who abandoned my sister and walked out on the girls before they were even born was back.

He was smiling and balancing three boxes and three small bouquets in his arms.

Two large men stood behind him, arms crossed, faces blank.

He ignored me completely and crouched down in front of the triplets.

Before I could defend them, the two large men stepped forward.

They wore matching black shirts and looked like they’d been hired for exactly this purpose.

“Get out of my way.”

One of them held up a hand, not touching me.

Behind them, the girls stood frozen. Our dog, a mutt named Biscuit, barked, sensing the tension.

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