Seth and I had been trying to have a child for a long time. While I believed our struggle would bring us closer, Seth seemed to grow distant.
“I don’t know how much longer I can handle this,” he said one evening at the kitchen table.
“What do you mean?” I asked, my heart sinking.
“You know I want children, and time isn’t on our side,” he replied, his tone cold and distant.
“What do you want from me? To give up? Leave? Stop fighting for us?” I asked, desperate for answers.
He didn’t respond, and soon after, I found myself signing divorce papers. I left everything behind and moved into an old house in Willow Creek.
The granddaughter of the previous owner, Mr. Nolan, was kind and welcoming but respected my privacy. She often brought me muffins or bread, and we shared an unspoken understanding to keep our distance.
Soon after moving in, I started hearing strange noises from the basement but was too afraid to check it out. When I asked Lauren about it, she told me her grandfather was very secretive and never allowed anyone down there. No one ever questioned why.
One morning, while I was drinking coffee, two police officers knocked on my door.
“How can I help you?” I asked, puzzled.
“We need to inspect your basement,” one officer said. “It’s related to the previous owner. Have you been down there since moving in?”
I admitted I hadn’t — too scared to go alone.
When they went down, they found two boys, around six and eight years old, hiding in the basement.
My heart stopped. “What were those kids doing there?” I wondered silently.
The boys started crying, begging, “Please don’t send us back to the orphanage!”
I learned the boys had escaped from a nearby orphanage multiple times. The officers told them that Mr. Nolan had been secretly caring for them, but now they’d be returned and not allowed to leave without permission.
As they were taken away, one boy ran to me, hugging me tightly. “Please save us. Let us live in your basement.”
I was overwhelmed and didn’t know what to say.
Days later, I couldn’t stop thinking about them. I visited the orphanage and asked about Max and Tommy. The caretaker told me they had been abandoned by their parents and had lived there ever since.
When the boys were brought to meet me, their hopeful eyes asked again, “Will you take us home? Will you let us live with you?”
Having wanted children for so long, a million questions flooded my mind. “Could I be a good mother? Could I adopt them?”
“I can’t promise anything yet, but I want to try,” I told them.
The adoption process was long, difficult, and expensive—but worth every moment.
Today, I am a mother to two wonderful boys who have filled my life with love and joy. They are my world, and I’m grateful to be theirs.
