It felt impossible—like someone had just told me the sky was brown.
She stepped closer.
“He stole you from me.”
Dad snapped out of it then.
“That’s not true, Liza. Not all of it,” he said.
“What?” I said, my mind spinning. Whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd.
“He stole you from me.”
I grabbed his wrist.
“Dad, what is she talking about? Who is she?”
He looked down, lips parting, but before he could speak, she cut him off.
“I’m your mother, and this man has lied to you your entire life!”
My brain scrambled. My mother—my real mother—was standing there in front of me, claiming me in front of everyone. She grabbed my hand.
“You belong with me.”
I instinctively pulled back. Dad stepped in, arm stretched protectively in front of me.
“You’re not taking her anywhere,” he said.
“You don’t get to decide that,” she snapped.
“Will someone tell me what’s going on? Dad, please!” I begged.
He looked down at me, voice quiet.
“I never stole you from her. But she’s right about one thing—I’m not your biological father.”
“What? You… lied to me?”
“Liza left you with me. Her boyfriend didn’t want the baby, and she was struggling. She asked me to watch you for one night while she talked to him. She never came back. He disappeared too. I thought they had run off together.”
“I tried to come back!” Liza cried.
The whispers grew louder. Then an older teacher stepped down from the stands.
“I remember them,” she said. “You graduated here 18 years ago with a baby in your arms.” She nodded at Dad. “And you, Liza, lived next door. You dropped out before graduation and disappeared with your boyfriend.”
The story shifted. My father’s choices suddenly ma
