Ten years later, Estella wandered through the town market, humming softly — the first tune she had dared in a decade. A sudden collision with a small figure jolted her.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said a thin boy with wide brown eyes. “We’re hungry. Can you spare some money?”
Another boy appeared, identical in every way. “I’m Jordan, and this is my twin brother, Tim,” he explained. “We just want a bite to eat.”
Estella sighed but handed them cash. When she looked closer, she noticed a small crescent-shaped mark on one boy’s neck. Her heart stopped — Neil had the same mark.
“Boys, would you like some hot chocolate and buns?” she asked, her voice trembling.
At a nearby café, she watched them eat and laugh, seeing echoes of Neil in their smiles. When she asked about their mother, a familiar voice called across the street.
Emily.
The girl from her doorstep ten years earlier rushed forward, her face lined but unmistakable. When she saw Estella, her expression faltered. “Boys, let’s go,” she said softly.
“Wait! Sit with me,” Estella insisted. Hesitant, Emily joined, holding the twins close.
“I loved your son,” Emily whispered. “Neil was brilliant and kind. I was pregnant when he died. I raised the twins alone, telling them about their father.”
Estella’s tears flowed as she realized the truth. “You and these boys… you are my family now,” she said. She placed Neil’s silver ring in Emily’s hand. “He would have given this to you. It’s yours.”
That night, Estella tucked the twins into bed, laughing for the first time in ten years. “Every day, hot chocolate,” she promised. Gazing at the stars, she whispered, “Thank you, Neil. You gave me back my heart.”
