LIVIA’S POV

“Well, tell me then.”

C

+20

Our mom’s voice sliced through the thick tension in the room. The warmth and excitement she had shown moments ago were slowly giving way to confusion, maybe even unease. I didn’t me herb–/bwhat we were about to reveal wasn’t the kind of thing one could process in a heartbeat. Even I hadn’t fully wrapped my head around it yet.

Julian hesitated. I could see it in the way he kept shifting his weight, his fingers twitching at his side. And I didn’t me him either–how do you even begin to tell someone something this huge? This wasn’t just about finding a lost item or reconnecting with an old friend. This was about revealing a truth that would shake her world. A truth so delicate and overwhelming, that it needed to be delivered with care.

“You might not believe what I’m about to tell you,” Julian started carefully, his voice low, eyes locked on our mom’s face. “And I don’t me you if you don’t. But I want you to know that it’s the truth.”

Immediately, I noticed the subtle change in her expression. The light in her eyes dimmed, and the curiosity in her smile faded. She folded her arms, her shoulders tensed slightly.

“Talk to me, mijo,” she said softly but firmly, her motherly intuition clearly sensing that something serious was about to unfold.

Julian turned to nce at me, giving a reassuring nod. I took a deep breath and stepped closer. As he ced a supportive hand on my shoulder, I felt a strange wave bof /bemotion rise up in my chest–an invisible weight pressing down on me, like my throat was slowly tightening.

“I know how many times I walked past your room and found you crying,” Julian began, his voice cracking just a little. “How many nights you couldn’t sleep, how often you med yourself. You thought Olivia bwas /bgone forever. And every time I saw you that way, knowing I had a part in it- I hated myself.”

“Julian, we’ve talked about this,” our mom interrupted quickly, her tone sharp with pain. “You know I don’t like you bringing that up.”

“I know. But this time it’s different, Mom,” Julian said, standing his ground. “Every time I saw you hurting, I wanted nothing more than to undo everything–to turn back time, to make things right. I prayed for a second chance. And I think God listened.”

Mom’s brows furrowed. She looked from Julian to me, confused. “What are you talking about?” she asked, scanning our faces like she was trying to piece together a puzzle with missing parts.

Julian took a deep breath. “I found her,” he said. “I found Olivia. Mom… this is her. This is Olivia.”

My heart stopped for a second as he finally said the words. I stood silently, trying to steady my breathing. The look on her face–it was unreadable. Her eyes widened slightly as she stared at me, then flicked back to Julian, then to me again. A shortugh escaped her lips–nervous, disbelieving.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” she asked, her tone suddenly serious. “Julian, kell me you’re joking.”

“I would never joke about something like this,” Julian replied, his voice firm. “Not with you. Not about this. I know it’s hard to believe, but this bis /breal. She’s your daughter–our Olivia.”

She turned back to me, her eyes searching mine. The silence in the room bgrew /bdeafening. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. I could see the storm of emotions swirling in her gaze–hopeb, /bconfusion, disbelief.

“What is he talking about?b” /bshe asked finally, her voice trembling as she directed the question at me.

At that point, I didn’t know what to bsay/b. Even though the question she asked bwas /bsimpleb–/bstraightforward, even the answer felt impossibly heavy on my tongue. My biological mother bwas /bstanding right in front of me. How could I think straight? How bwas /bbI /bsupposed to form words when my whole world had just tilted on its baxis/b?

“Everything he said is the truth, bma’am/b,” I managed to say, my voice trembling and low. Even I still found it hard to believe. We had done a DNA testb, /band the result bwas /bthere, clear as day. But somehow, the reality still hadn’t fully sunk in for me either.

And why did I just bcall /bher ma’am?

There was an bawkward /bsilence. My motherb–/bour motherb–/bturned her full attention to Julian now, her brows furrowed and her voice growing sharperb, /btouched with disbelief.

“And you expect me to just believe bthat /bthis is my daughter from bover /btwenty–two byears /bago?” she asked, looking between us like she was trying to see the resemnce that time had stolen.

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me bif /bbI /bjust came in and said it,” Julian said gently. “That’s why I brought proof.”

He reached into his bcoat /bpocket and pulled out ba /bfolded envelopeb–/bthe DNA btest /bresults from the hospital. The room seemed bto /bstill with the weight of it. This bwasn’t /bjust paper. It was true. It was twentyb–/btwo byears /bof questions and heartache, pressed into one sterile document.ulli20/li/ul

“I made sure I did my research before I brought this to you,” Julian added, handing the envelope over carefully. “Everything… everything points to her. Even the DNA test.”

Our mom took the envelope with slow hands, the hesitation in her fingers betraying the storm of emotions she was holding back. She opened it quietly, her eyes scanning the words inside. And with every passing second, I saw her expression begin to crack. The doubt that had hardened her voice earlier Started to fade, reced by something else–something softer, something familiar.

As she kept reading, her eyes grew ssy with tears.

I stood there frozen, my heart pounding. I had no idea what I expected–maybe yelling, maybe denial, maybe her turning away in disbelief. But the silence said more than words ever could. She believed it. Deep down, she knew. If someone else had handed her that paper, maybe she would’ve thought it was forged. A cruel joke. But this came from her son. From Julian.

And now, the truth was too real to ignore.

Her hand flew to her mouth as the first tear escaped. Her shoulders shook slightly as more followed, rolling down her cheeks, each one carving its own path of emotion. She looked up at me again, but this time… the way she looked at me was different.

It wasn’t the confused nce of a stranger or the cautious inspection of someone trying to connect the dots. It was something deeper–an instinctive recognition, a bond that no amount of lost time could eraseb. /b

She looked at me in a way that even my adoptive parents had never done before.

She looked at me the way only a mother could look at her child.

“Olivia…” she whispered. My name. Not shouted, not questioned–just spoken with quiet awe, with love. It was the first time in my life I’d heard it spoken like that.

And it broke me

Tears poured freely down my face now. I couldn’t hold them back even if I tried. I hadn’t seen her before today, not even in photographs. But somehow, at this moment, I knew her. I felt it. That unspoken, unshakable bond between a mother and her child. It was real. I could feel it in the way she looked at me, the way her hands trembled, the way my name trembled on her lips.

I hadn’te here expecting a hug or a fairytale reunion. I knew this wasn’t something you could just leap into. But standing here, in front of herb, /bbI /bdidn’t need all that.

I just needed to know who she was. And now, I did.

And more than thatb–/bshe knew who I was too.