Chapter 8: The Woman From Lauren’s Past
Nobody spoke.
The name wasn’t spoken.
Because Lauren didn’t say one.
She didn’t need to.
The fear on her face told us enough.
James looked at her.
“You knew someone connected to this?””
Lauren shook her head.
“Not like this.””
I stared at her.
“Start explaining.””
She looked at Emma.
Then at me.
“When I was seventeen, after I had Michael, I met a woman.””
Dad frowned.
“What woman?””
Lauren sat down slowly.
“Her name was Evelyn.””
The name meant nothing to me.
But it clearly meant something to my sister.
“She helped me.””
“With what?””
“With everything.””
Lauren’s voice became distant.
“When everyone told me I was too young, that I couldn’t do it, Evelyn was the only person who told me I could be a good mother.””
For a moment, Lauren looked like she was remembering someone important.
Then her expression darkened.
“But she changed.””
James crossed his arms.
“How?””
“She started saying things.””
“What things?””
Lauren looked at me.
“That some mothers weren’t meant to raise children.””
A chill went through me.
The same belief.
The same words.
The same twisted idea.
Dad sat down.
“Lauren…”
“I know.””
She looked ashamed.
“I know how it sounds.””
“No,” I said quietly.
Everyone looked at me.
“I want to understand.””
Lauren looked surprised.
I took a breath.
“Not forgive. Understand.””
She nodded.
“Evelyn lost a child too.””
The room went quiet.
“She told me her story. She said she knew what it felt like to watch someone fail a child.””
James frowned.
“And you believed her?””
“I was seventeen.””
Lauren’s voice cracked.
“I had just lost Michael. I was desperate for someone to tell me I wasn’t a failure.””
I looked down at Emma.
“And she made you believe other mothers were failures instead.””
Lauren nodded.
“Yes.””
My father rubbed his face.
“Why did she contact us?””
Lauren looked at the envelope.
“Because she found out about Emma.””
“How?””
“I don’t know.””
James immediately responded.
“Someone gave her information.””
Everyone looked at Lauren.
Her face fell.
“No.””
But she knew.
She knew before she said it.
James stepped closer.
“Lauren.””
“No.””
Her voice became smaller.
“She wouldn’t.””
“Who?””
Lauren looked at my mother.
Then my father.
Then finally me.
“She knew my family.””
The room went silent.
I felt my heartbeat pounding.
“Who knew your family?””
Lauren whispered:
“My old social worker.””
Dad stood.
“What?””
Lauren looked terrified.
“She helped me after Michael died.””
James shook his head.
“That was years ago.””
“I know.””
“Then how would she know Claire?””
Lauren didn’t answer.
Because there was only one way.
Someone had been talking.
Someone close.
I looked at my parents.
My mother immediately looked away.
That was enough.
“Mom.””
She started crying.
“Claire, please.””
“No.””
My voice broke.
“Who told her?””
My mother sat down.
“I didn’t know what she wanted.””
James looked furious.
“You spoke to her?””
My mother nodded.
“Only a few times.””
“About what?””
My mother covered her face.
“I was scared.””
“Scared of what?””
She whispered:
“I thought Claire was struggling.””
The words hit harder than I expected.
Not again.
Everyone saw me struggling.
Nobody saw me fighting.
I looked at my mother.
“You believed her.””
“She made me think I was helping.””
“Helping who?””
My mother couldn’t answer.
James took my hand.
“We’re leaving.””
But before we could move, Lauren suddenly stood.
“Wait.””
Something in her voice stopped us.
She looked at the envelope again.
Then at the paper.
“She didn’t send this.””
I frowned.
“What?””
Lauren pointed at the handwriting.
“That isn’t Evelyn’s.””
James looked at the envelope.
“How do you know?””
Lauren’s face became pale.
“Because I know who wrote it.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who?””
Lauren stared directly at me.
May you like
And whispered:
“Claire’s best friend.””
